Programme Halcyon Season 1
by mari6s
Summary: While Sydney is presumed dead after Alias season 2, Jack finds out about yet another family secret. Spin-off, virtual season. Action, angst, psychology, romance... Main characters: OC, Jack Bristow, Irina Derevko, Sydney Bristow.
1. Introduction

This fanfiction has a dedicated website with more features: **Halcyon **_dot_** e-monsite** _dot_** com **_slash_** en**

**Author's Note:**

First, I'd like to point out that the basic idea of this fic comes from a fanfic written by Ossian: _Thicker Than Water_, available on . I started writing the French version of Programme Halcyon years ago, and I'm finally getting around to translating it into English. The French version already has over 25 episodes, but it will take some time before the translation catches up since I'm still updating it in French (there will be a total of 40 episodes). The beginning of my fic is a lot like _Thicker Than Water_'s, even though it has been entirely rewritten with my own words, first in French and then translated into English. Pretty quick, differences will appear. Let's say the structure of the story and dialogue mostly comes from Ossian's fic in the first 2 or 3 first episodes.

Another thing: in this fic, I'm venturing on creating an OC (original character) who never existed in Alias. I think I've avoided most of the usual pitfalls, but I'll let you be the judge of that. Please share any comments about how "credible" that OC's psychology is... At the beginning of the fic I explain who the OC is and how it is integrated into the series, so it should not throw anyone off.

The fanfiction starts between seasons 2 and 3.

**Disclaimer:**

The Alias universe does not belong to me, what a shock right? But well, they don't want their characters anymore, so why wouldn't I borrow them for a while? ;p

The pictures online on this website do not belong to me either – but I created the background image. I took them off the Internet and even though no copyright was specified on the websites I copied them from, they in turn might not have had the right to use them. If you own one of these photographs, please tell me and I'll take it off or specify who it belongs to.

I do not get any financial profit out of this fanfiction, these images, or this website.

**Spoilers:**

Obviously there are some about seasons 1 and 2. Pretty quick, there are details we only find out about in season 3. But nothing about season 4 and 5, even though there might be references to them.

**Rating:**

Mostly K+, sometimes slightly T (language, mentions of physical and psychological violence, notably on children, but nothing too specific).

**To help you understand:**

Place and date are in underlined bold characters. There is an indent for each point of view change, and memories are in italic.

If your memories of the TV series are a bit vague, my website **Halcyon **_dot_** e-monsite** _dot_** com **_slash_** en** has summaries and character descriptions.


	2. Episode 1: Family of Spies

**Episode 1: Family of Spies**

* * *

**CIA – Top-secret file: Elisha Clode**

A mercenary who appeared on the field at the same time as Julian Sark. No trace of her before.

**Birth date: **1982 (exact date unknown).

**Size:** 5 ft 6.

**Weight:** 123 lbs.

**Physical description:** light walnut hair, brown eyes.

**Accused of:** Terrorism, Murder, Burglary, Armed robbery, Espionage.

**Date of arrest:** may 2003 in Stockholm.

**Known employers:** Alexander Khasinau, Irina Derevko, Arvin Sloane.

**Other:** raised in St Thomas orphanage in Cleggan (Ireland) before she joined Programme Halcyon at age eight.

* * *

**CIA – Top-secret file: Programme Halcyon**

The Russian equivalent to Project Christmas.

**Location: **underground base near Minsk, Belarus.

**Starting date:** probably around 1985.

**End date:** officially 1988 (end of government funding), in reality 2002.

**Known instructors: **Alexander Khasinau, Irina Derevko, Ksenia Petrovitch.

**Known students: **Julian Sark, Allison Georgia Doren, Elisha Clode.

**Headcount: **probably around 60 students and a dozen of instructors, most of whom have never been identified and might still be operating today.

* * *

**Previously on Alias: **

_**Author's note: I'm adding some changes compared to the Alias plot, in bold.**_

_In the 1970s, the KGB sends Irina Derevko undercover in the United States, as Laura. She fulfills her mission – seduce and marry Jack Bristow, a CIA agent. They have a daughter, Sydney, in 1975._

_Jack is in charge of developing Project Christmas, a training and conditioning program aimed at children. The idea is to identify gifted children and prepare them to work in intelligence services._

_On a 1981 night, Jack and Laura are driving back from the movie theater, followed by an FBI agent who suspected she was KGB. There is an accident: the car left the road and ended up in the river. Laura/Irina's body was never found._

_The CIA figures out that she was working for the Russians, and for a while, suspects Jack was working with her. But only twenty years later will he and Sydney find out that Irina survived: the accident was staged in order to exfiltrate her. _

_Once she gets back to Russia and under Alexander Khasinau's orders, Irina develops __**Programme Halcyon**__, inspired by Project Christmas but more extreme. The children, all Westerners in order for them to fit in more easily amongst the enemy, are kept in a secret base in Minsk, Belarus, for several years of intensive training._

_The Programme officially comes to an end with Gorbachev's "new détente" and cuts on the military budget, but in fact continues, financed by private investors. The last children graduate in 2002 and become mercenaries. __**Clode**__, Sark and Doren work for Irina, who is at the time operating under the alias The Man. _

_Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Sydney Bristow grew up with an absent father who officially worked in aeronautics. Aching at his wife's betrayal, Jack decided to put his daughter through Project Christmas to make sure she will not be easily conditioned or manipulated. _

_Unaware of all this, Sydney studies to become a teacher like Laura, and is recruited by SD-6, led by Arvin Sloane, who presents it as a secret division of the CIA. Seven years later, she gets engaged to her boyfriend Danny and tells him the truth about the job, which is strictly forbidden. She then finds him dead, stabbed, in her bathtub. _

_That is how she finds out that SD- 6 is _not _part of the CIA. Sloane is actually a member of the Alliance of Twelve, an international coalition of former intelligence service members which aims to make a profit in all kinds of areas, most of them illegal. _

_So Sydney becomes a double agent for the CIA, infiltrated in SD-6. She finds out that it is also the road her father took many years earlier. A year and a half later, when SD-6 is destroyed, she keeps on working for the CIA._

_At the time, Irina Derevko is detained by the CIA, but she eventually breaks out and it turns out that her getting caught was part of the plan all along. Shortly after, Irina betrays Sark __**and Clode**__ to help Sydney catch Arvin Sloane, who abducted and is detaining Jack.__** Sark makes a run for it, but Clode is captured by the CIA. She quickly gives away Sloane's location.**_

_Sydney's best friend, Will Tippin, who has always had a crush on her, used to be a journalist. When Danny is killed, officially by prowlers that the police is unable to catch, Will decides to investigate. It makes him dangerous for SD-6 and useful for Khasinau, who has him abducted and tortured by Sark __**and Clode**__ in order to know what he found out. Sydney and Jack rescue him, but he has to compromise his credibility as a journalist so that the SD-6 stops seeing him as a threat, and doesn't have him killed._

_Sloane, working with Derevko, has Sydney's roommate, Francie Calfo, replaced by a perfect double created through Project Helix: Allison Doren. She becomes romantically involved with Will, who has been hired as a CIA analyst. When there begins to be suspicions of an infiltrated agent, Allison frames Will as the double, but Sydney proves his innocence._

_When Will later figures out that Fran/Allison is the double, she stabs him and leaves him for dead. But he had time to leave a message explaining everything on Sydney's cell phone. She listens to it sitting next to Fran/Allison, who understands that she knows. They fight, Sydney shoots Allison dead with three bullets, then passes out._

_Sydney's house burns down and a charred body is found with her DNA. __**Yet **__**Jack doesn't buy into his daughter's death, and he keeps on looking for her, as do Weiss, Dixon and Marshall. **__Vaughn, Sydney's boyfriend and CIA partner, driven to despair by her loss, has drifted away from the CIA without giving any news. Will has gotten over his wounds and __**is working as a CIA analyst again**__._

_Sloane has just been granted a pardon in exchange for information and is at the head of Omnifam, a world hunger relief philanthropist organization which subsidizes medical research._

_**Elisha Clode is detained in the CIA building basement. **_

_* Opening credits *_

* * *

**Los Angeles, USA. October 30****th****, 2003. ****CIA office.**

Agent Jack Bristow was standing in front of the screen connected to the cell's surveillance camera. Elisha Clode seemed even younger and even more harmless than usual. Looks are deceptive, for the twenty-two-year-old woman was one of the CIA most wanted – for murders, terrorism, theft, espionage… One of the most dangerous mercenaries in the world. Well, at least until five months before. When she got caught.

The young woman was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall in a corner of the room, the one corner least visible from the cameras' angle. She was sitting, arms around her legs, one cheek on her knees, her eyes closed, perfectly still. Jack would have thought that she was sleeping, if he hadn't sensed how tense all of her muscles were. She moved suddenly, as in a jolt, her hands clenched on her shins and she half-opened her eyes for a split second. She was in pain.

For the record, the treatment she had been put through to get her to talk was unenviable. Until then, she had been cooperative, and the information she had provided since her capture had proved very useful. The young woman's flexible ethical code enabled her to betray her former colleagues and allies without losing any sleep, her loyalties lying with nothing – and nobody. She had answered every question she'd been asked. Every single one, except those about Irina. Derevko seemed to be the only person Clode remained loyal to, even though she had abandoned her and let her get caught.

So they'd injected her a truth serum. Very painful. And she hadn't said a thing. Her pain threshold was remarkably high; even under the influence of drugs, she didn't talk. At no point did she show that she was hurting, and only now, in the semidarkness of her cell and in front of the blind cameras, did she allow herself a moment of weakness before she became perfectly still again.

Elisha gave in to the pain creeping through her whole body. _Pain is a figment of your imagination. Pain is nothing. _Yet their truth serum hurt all the same. She liked good old pentothal better, if she had a say – which she obviously didn't.

But she hadn't said anything. It was all that mattered. _It cannot be avoided: some day, you will be captured and interrogated. In order to maintain control, you will need to set limits, to decide which pieces of information may be revealed, and when. _Elisha had told them absolutely everything. Her former allies weren't worth her suffering. There was but one thing she wouldn't say. One person she would not betray.

Irina...

It was silly, really. Go through this for her sake. Derevko had given her up. She was the reason she was even here, and it didn't look like she was in a hurry to get her out. But despite everything, she remembered the woman who, so many years ago, had gotten her out of an orphanage in the remotest part of Ireland.

_**1990. Saint Thomas Orphanage, Cleggan, Galway County, Ireland. **_

_During recess, Elisha was sitting alone on a step, in the yard. She was quite the loner and didn't really have any friends. She was daydreaming. It was her only way to escape from this orphanage, this life, even if only for a brief moment._

_Sister Aislinn pulled her out of her thoughts with a gentle tap on her shoulder._

"_Someone is here to see you."_

_Intrigued, Elisha followed her to her office. Who on earth could take an interest in her? She was eight and strongly suspected that no one would adopt her. She hadn't taken care over her clothes for a long time, on the days when potential adoptive parents came to visit the orphanage. What good would it have done? They only had eyes for the little ones. Or, among the oldest, those who were tractable enough to become what they were expected to be, and forget about the past. And, whether she wanted it or not, Elisha would never be cut out for that. _

_A woman was waiting, sitting in front of Sister Aislinn's desk, her back to the door. When she heard it open, she turned around. She looked very beautiful, Elisha thought; she was probably thirty-five or forty, and had splendid, very long dark hair. Shiny brown eyes, and a wonderful smile._

"_Hello, my name is Irina, she said with a slight accent, probably Russian, which made her voice sound like a lullaby. Would you like to get out of here?"_

_That was how Elisha had joined Programme Halcyon. Intensive training to shooting and all fighting techniques, learning infiltration and torture methods, everything the perfect spy needs – or the perfect killer. _

**November 8, 2003. **

"Agent Bristow! Uh… Jack!"

Jack let out a mental sigh. He was in a hurry, and not in the mood for hearing the gimmick genius' jumbled babble and digressions – but Marshall had that hasty I-just-discovered-something-big look on his face, so Jack slowed down to wait for him.

"What is it?" Jack asked, letting show a bit of irritation. "Could it wait?"

"Uh, well – it has waited enough already, I mean I," Marshall stuttered. "I mean I have made it wait, well, I have been meaning to talk to you for a week. That is to say, five days, but technically I think you could say that's a working week. Uh, well – could we take this to your office? Yes, it's important," he added before Jack asked. "No, we can't discuss it here."

A reluctant Jack showed him into his lair. He sat behind his desk and braced himself for the river of words that Marshall would unavoidably pour out before getting to the point.

"I know you must have important things to do," the technician started. "But this is also a little bit important. Well, I think it's actually more than a little bit important and you should know about this. I haven't mentioned it to anyone else…"

"Sydney?" Jack asked, suddenly leaning over his desk. "Is it about Sydney? Did you find a lead?"

"Hum, no. Well – yeah, but no. Not exactly."

Marshall cleared his throat under Jack's impatient gaze, and tried again.

"You remember the DNA database that we got in Stuttgart – well, that Derevko stole in Stuttgart and we collected in Spain…"

"Marshall…"

"Yeah, right. As you know, we haven't exactly figured out what Sloane and Derevko wanted to use that database for yet. So I've been playing around with it on my free time, you know. Not that I have that much free time, but it was kinda like a way to clear my brain in between two projects. Just a couple quick searches on random DNA profiles. And so it occurred to me I could check if I was in there. I am, by the way, and when I dug a bit I was able to find profiles for my parents, two aunts, six cousins, and an uncle no one ever talks about because… Well, no one talks about him. So my next idea was check if anyone else I knew was in the database. Turns out Sydney is, which is the reason why it's a little bit about Sydney but not really because that's actually not the point."

Marshall stopped to take a breath, witnessing Jack's exasperation rise by the second.

"The software I created can sort out data in all kinds of categories. And as I said, it can trace parents, grandparents, children, siblings. I researched all of that for Sydney… and I uh – I stumbled on an extra result."

"A what?"

"A, uh – an extra result. Somebody who had no business there. Well, that I didn't expect to find there. I checked three times just to be sure. And then I checked nine more times just in case the four others were like an error, a bug, that kind of thing happens, you never know. But no luck, no. Then it occurred to me that Derevko might have had the time to put that one piece of information into the database. Even though I don't really get why she would have bothered to do that, except if her plan was for Sydney to find it, which really doesn't make any sense – unless that's what she wants us to believe, but…"

"Marshall!"

"To the point! I'm getting to the point. Whatever it be, I realized that we could check the results using the, um… actual subjects involved. So I had blood samples from the both of you analyzed by our lab. And I was really careful to not say who the samples were from. Just A and B. And the results were the same each time they tested them. They're positive, there's a 97,2% chance B is A's child. Now, you're A and B is… Maybe you should just read this."

Marshall handed a file to Jack, who opened it. Four DNA strands were displayed on a sheet of paper.

"It's a family," Marshall explained. "Father, mother and, uh – two children."

Jack, astounded, was staring at the page.

"This is you – the first one," Marshall pointed. "And the next one is…"

"I can read the labels," Jack cut him off. "The next one says – Derevko, Irina. Then – Bristow, Sydney. And the last one… It can't be," he whispered unwittingly.

"I know. That's what I thought too. So I had them check again. That's part of the reason I didn't tell you before today. I wanted to be completely, absolutely positive," Marshall said before pausing. "We checked eight times in total. Always the same results."

"Did you tell anyone else?" Jack asked without taking his eyes off the file.

"No, sir. And this is the only copy there is."

They were quiet for a long while.

"Uh – sir?"

"Yes, Marshall. Thank you," Jack absentmindedly said, still focusing on the file. "I'll take care of it."

"Okay. You'll… take care of it? Okay. Um, should I go now?"

Jack nodded, still not paying attention, then suddenly looked up at him.

"You're really sure?"

"Eight times. I am positive."

**Kyiv, Ukrain. November 10, 2003.**

Sark walked into the church. He had been able to flee in Stockholm, when Clode was captured. He knew that Derevko was the one who turned them in to the CIA. Which explains how dumbfounded he felt when she got back in touch with him. She had a cheek, considering she had almost gotten him caught!

Yet he still agreed to meet her. Curiosity? Pragmatism? Irina paid well, which tended to help forget her shady tricks. He was sitting on a bench at the back of the little church when she joined him.

"You've got a hell of a nerve, after what happened in Stockholm," he said without even looking at her.

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Fair enough. But the offer better be good."

"It is. Two million now, three after the job. A get-out-of-jail card for Elisha Clode."

For a second there Sark lost his legendary composure – then pulled himself together pretty fast.

"You'll always amaze me. You help the CIA catch the two of us, then hire _me _to help her escape?" he wondered with a slight, hoarse laugh. "Would I have gotten that get-out-of-jail-not-so-free card if they had caught _me_?"

It was a rhetorical question, and that is exactly how she heard it. Although Sark assumed an offended look, he did not really take it personally. She had revealed something when it suited her, and now, for some reason, she wanted Clode back. After all, it was her business.

"I have my reasons."

"There is just a slight problem. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have been led to believe she is being kept in solitary confinement under the CIA building in LA. Having spent a nice little vacation there, you know how secured it is – so how do you hope to get her out?"

"In the exact same way that I did, actually. I know her – she'll figure out a way to force them to send her on a mission. Then, we'll be able to make contact and counter whatever measures they might have taken to ensure her loyalty – bugs, poison and Co."

"So I'll have to wait for her to send a sign."

"Precisely. And believe me, she will. Oh! One last thing," Irina added, getting up and about to leave. "No one can know that I am behind her escape. And certainly not her."

**Los Angeles. November 11, 2003. CIA office. **

Jack was sitting alone at his desk, staring once again at the DNA strands. Even his untrained eyes seemed to detect similarities. The rest of the report only confirmed what Marshall had said – Jack could barely draw the obvious conclusions.

Laura – Irina, was pregnant when the KGB framed her death, over twenty years earlier.

Sydney had a sister.

He had another daughter.

He got up abruptly and put the file under his arm. Almost unthinkingly, almost unwillingly, he ended up walking towards the underground levels of the building. There was but a guard on duty in the observation room, who was used to Jack's occasional visits and simply greeted him with a nod while the agent was focusing on the monitors.

Most of the cell was covered by the surveillance cameras, but the prisoner didn't try to avoid them anyway. She was lying on the floor, doing sit-ups. She jumped up and started a series of push-ups. Ever since she had been caught, she had made it a point to stay in shape.

When Jack switched the angle of one of the cameras to get a better look at her, Clode heard its buzz. She threw a glance at the objective and made a face at it before resuming her exercises. After five months in detention, her hair had grown, but she hadn't lost her outstanding physical condition, or her cheeky arrogance. Jack looked for any family trait on Elisha's face, and didn't find anything obvious. She did look a little bit like Sydney. Her hair was a bit lighter; her features probably came more from Irina's side, especially her smile, with the same dimples. They had the same hazel eyes – but Clode's had a different spark, as though she was constantly taunting the whole world.

"Take her to the interrogation room, I want to talk to her," Jack eventually told the guard.

"Drugs?"

"No."

The guard hesitated for a second, but complied. He was probably wondering what Jack hoped to accomplish. Even under drugs, Clode had not answered any questions about Irina. Everything else that she knew, she had already given…

When Elisha saw the guards come in, she didn't even look up, and finished her series of push-ups before standing up. What did they want this time? They seemed to have given up on getting her to talk about Irina... Perhaps they had new intelligence for her to analyze?

Bah, she was so bored in her cell anyway, and it was so cold in there – a little bit of entertainment couldn't hurt. She really hoped there would be no truth serum this time, though. Not that she was really afraid of talking – her training had prepared her to hold off for months, maybe even years. But still, it didn't exactly feel nice.

_**1996 – Programme Halcyon, near Minsk, Belarus. **_

_Interrogation simulation. Simulation in name only, for that matter, since pain was all too real – oh, no, Elisha had forgotten again. Pain is but a figment of your imagination. What about that other student, holding her arm behind her back and pulling like he was trying to dislocate her shoulder, was she making that up too? Must be, but her mind was a little bit muddy. Because of the drugs, maybe?_

_Irina was watching from the next room over, through a window. Or maybe she was a hallucination, too. Who cares anyway? That's not why she was here. But why then ? She couldn't seem to remember. _

_The other student's lips were moving. The echo of his words came to Elisha's ears, but she couldn't focus enough to connect them together. Her silence made him mad, he asked the question again. She vaguely heard it this time._

"_Where are the documents?"_

_What documents? Oh, yeah, the ones Irina had made up for the simulation. Elisha knew where they were, and the other student had to get her talking. But where were they then? No, don't try to remember. Irina's method was working even better than planned – overload her brain with random information in order to forget what the enemy wants to know. _

_0032F25GT3690046YEZ4Z123PAL56458900237K5JM033GRE87 5662SQZ563557KLPAPY5475E36697TG5H8970612A63AJL556. .. she was repeating to herself, while the other was pinning her against the wall. It almost sounded like a sweet tune… 0032F25GT36980046YEZ4Z..._

Jack walked into the interrogation room. They had done this so often he knew before he even looked at her what look would be painted on her face. Boredom, indifference. A tiny bit of patronizing amusement, not too far from scorn. And, most of all, a kind of curiosity. That was what Jack was most intrigued about.

Even though he knew that Clode's days pretty much all came down to the same boring, endless routine, her interest in each new interview always managed to surprise him. He was also astounded at the eerie enthusiasm with which she was helping the CIA destroy the same operations she had worked hard to build, and at the satisfaction he could have sworn she felt, when she knew she had been able to provide useful information.

She needed to be needed, Jack thought. She needed to be irreplaceable. And she didn't give a damn who she was working for or what for, as long as she was helpful in some way.

"No booster shot today?" Clode asked with a smile on her lips. "Between the two of us, I like it better that way. So, what could you possibly want to know that I haven't already said a dozen times?" she sighed.

"I just want to clarify a few things."

The young woman sat down resignedly. While the guard was cuffing her to her chair before leaving them alone, Jack looked at her more thoroughly. She was only a kid. She was twenty-two years old and looked even younger. He shook his head slightly, thinking about all the havoc she had wreaked over the last couple of years.

"I want to review the details of your past. For starters, where were you born?"

"Cleggan," she answered with a pout that clearly showed she didn't see the point of asking that kind of question.

"Elaborate."

"Cleggan, County Galway, Republic of Ireland," she recited, emphasizing her Irish accent.

"What is your mother's name?"

"I don't know," she replied quickly.

"Your father's name?"

"I don't know. Where are you getting at? You already know all of this, and even if you didn't, I don't see –"

"Just answer me," Jack interrupted her. "We're getting there. Who raised you?"

"Sister Aislinn, at Saint Thomas Orphanage, until I turned eight."

"What happened when you turned eight?"

"Irina came," she said, her face lighting up, barely holding back a smile. "She placed me into a new school, in Minsk."

"What kind of school?"

They had already talked about this once or twice, but this time Jack wanted to go deeper. He already knew that Clode had gone through something like Project Christmas. But this time, he was particularly investigating her relationship with Irina. And the deeper he dug, the more convinced he got that Clode had no clue of who she was. She idolized her and saw her as a motherly figure – but she had never realized that she actually _was _her mother.

For a brief moment, Jack wondered if Irina was okay with that. If she had ever worried about Elisha's reaction if, one day, she found out the truth. Would she feel betrayed? Would it even matter to her at all? Had Irina decided herself to put her daughter through Programme Halcyon? He knew he was not in a position to judge her, having put Sydney through Project Christmas – but if he was trying to protect the one he thought was his only child at the time, what was Irina's purpose when she made Elisha into a cold-blooded killer?

**A few hours later. **

"For God's sake, Jack, what were you thinking?" Kendall raged. "Your little game didn't get us any intel we didn't already have. What the hell were you looking for?"

"I thought I'd find a new lead," Jack quietly said.

"What new lead? All you did was get her to repeat what we got out of her during her first week here. Nothing new."

"I've received a tip about the Project Christmas equivalent that the Russians developed, Programme Halcyon. Clode was part of it, I wanted to check a couple of things with her."

"Okay, but it has historical interest at best."

"Not if Derevko was developing a new one at the moment."

"Do you have information pointing in that direction?"

"Only rumors, nothing positive."

Jack had made up that story on the spot, so that Kendall would leave him alone. He would just have to say the rumors were bogus if he ever brought it up again, and that would be the end of it.

He walked back to his office, carefully avoiding Marshall and his inquisitive glances, and closed the door. He set the file on his desk, and stayed there for an hour, staring into space.

Clode was a murderer, a terrorist – bright, charming, very beautiful, and seemingly normal. But responsible for more deaths than Jack cared to count. She was ruthless, remorseless, efficient, exactly what she had been created for. She could also put on an act without the slightest hitch, get out of inextricable situations, and she was still so very young.

She wasn't innocent, but it was also clear that Clode wasn't the only one to blame for what she had become. Irina had made sure she would never get a real choice.

He couldn't have said how long later, but eventually, he landed up in the observation room again. The young woman was lying on the ground in the middle of the room, reading a book. A troubled Jack noticed she had just swept her hair back behind her ear. Just like Sydney and Irina – he tried to reason with himself: it didn't mean anything; it was an acquired mannerism, nothing to do with DNA whatsoever. Then, she grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped herself up in it to fall asleep in her favorite corner – the least covered by cameras. In a few minutes, her muscles loosened, her breathing slowed down and she seemed to grow calmer.

When the night shift guard replaced the evening one, Jack realized that he had been staring at the screen for over two hours. And in all that time, he had come to no epiphany, had taken no decision about what he was going to do. He had just watched that kid read then fall asleep, a thousand random thoughts rambling through his mind. All questions, no answers. He rubbed his tired eyes and left the observation room as quietly as he had come in.

Elisha was unable to sleep that night. These questions were not normal. Why was Jack Bristow asking these kinds of things? They already knew all that, it was in their files. Little of what she'd said was news, and it didn't matter much anyway. She pulled up the cover around her – this cell was so cold. She always slept sitting in this corner, never on the bed – if you really want to call that metal framework a bed. This corner was the most shielded from the cameras. Here, she could get a little bit of privacy. Allow herself not to be as strong as she looked, if only for a few seconds.

She couldn't think, couldn't warm up. She went back to the center of the room and started another series of push-ups. What did Bristow want? _Where were you born? Who's your mother? Who's your father? Who raised you?_ Where was he getting at?

Elisha realized she had been lost in her thoughts for too long when her arms began to ache. She got up and sat crossed-legged. Breathe in, breathe out – she closed her eyes. And understood.

**A few days later.**

It became an unwilling ritual, almost unconscious. One hour, thirty minutes there. To refine his profile of Clode, if Kendall or anybody else asked about his new pet project. He would have had a hard time justifying himself if anyone had asked him for results, or even what exactly he was hoping to learn through his observation of the young woman reading, exercising or making paper planes, which flew a few seconds before crashing inevitably and soundlessly on the cell walls. Jack wasn't even sure he could justify it to himself.

A similar curiosity had never led him to this room when his ex-wife inhabited the cell. He was always surprised to realize his steps were unrelentingly leading him towards the observation room, whenever he had free time between briefings and missions.

Marshall had been trying to talk to Jack about Clode's new unofficial 'status', but until then, the agent had always succeeded in avoiding him. Marshall was unsure about how he should react to this situation, which he would have much rather not known about. What if Kendall questioned him? What if he found this huge skeleton in his closet?

He finally managed to intercept Jack, who was walking into his office.

"Can I – talk to you?"

Jack looked annoyed, but let him in anyway and showed him a seat.

"She doesn't know?" Marshall asked, skipping the preliminaries for once.

"She never told her," Jack replied, shaking his head, not feeling the need to use names either.

"What about you? Are you going to tell her?"

"It would be no use."

"But – well," Marshall hesitated. "Don't you think – doesn't she deserve to know?"

"She deserves the cell she's sitting in," Jack sternly replied, before sighing and shrugging. "And anyway… I don't see what good it could do her to know – I don't even know if she'd want to know."

"If it was me, I'd wanna know," Marshall said. "But on the other hand, I'm not her. Which is a good thing, because quite frankly, I still think she's a little bit terrifying. Well, very terrifying. That girl is not normal – no offense. I don't know why I just said that," he added at Jack's frown. "I mean, it's not like you're the one who brought her up to become what she is today, it's just – Do you really think it's better not to tell her?"

Yes, Jack thought. Five months earlier, he had profiled her. He knew Clode was resigned to believe that she'd been abandoned by some poor Irish girl who couldn't, or wouldn't, raise her. Paradoxically, that knowledge gave her strength: she found comfort in the idea that she had become much more than could have been expected of her.

So would she like to find out she had become exactly what was expected of her, after all? Would it bring her solace to know that she wasn't alone as she had always thought, but had a family that never cared for her? Jack doubted it. But…

"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know."

"And Kendall?"

"No."

On that, at least, there was no doubt. Jack knew that this piece of information didn't change anything. It was even less of the Agency's business than his former relationship with Irina. It didn't change anything to what Clode was worth to them, what she had to offer, or what she'd done. For the CIA, this new little snippet of the truth wouldn't be much more than a footnote. And since it didn't change anything, there was no need to add complications to a situation that already had plenty.

"Yes, I suppose not," Marshall uttered while shaking his head. "Everyone already thinks your family is about as screwed up as humanly possible. It's probably better not to make it any worse… Uh – sorry. So you're really not gonna say anything? To her, not to him. You're not gonna tell her who she is?"

"No," Jack said after a pause. "I don't think I'll need to."

The young woman had a predisposition to high intelligence, and had been trained to use her potential to the fullest. With her analytical abilities and all the free time she had to think it through, Jack knew that sooner or later, she would make a few deductions about the unusual questions he had asked her…

**December 1, 2003. CIA building. **

After a briefing, Kendall tasked Jack with interrogating Clode. Everything you need to make biological weapons had been stolen by one Sandro Lorinza to a number of laboratories.

"Clode is our only informant who ever infiltrated Lorinza's organization. Check out what she knows."

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Jack asked.

Kendall turned back, looking at him like he was losing his marbles.

"Are you quite alright, Jack? Lorinza is walking around with enough potential biological weapons to kill at least ten million people, and you're asking me if it's necessary?"

"No, I mean – how reliable a source do we consider her to be? She's been out of the field for almost eight months."

An utterly annoyed Kendall answered curtly:

"I assume that we'll let you be the judge of that, considering the amount of time you spent working on her profile – just find out what she knows."

Jack walked toward the underground level with as much eagerness as apprehensive. It was the first time he'd been sent to interrogate Clode since his improvised session, several weeks before. Despite his many hours watching her, he had not talked to the young woman ever since then.

As he got closer to the cell, he saw Clode reading, lying on the ground. Books were carefully selected and approved before they were given to the prisoner, so Jack knew that this one was _Sans Famille_ by Hector Malot, in its original French version. Clode had requested it specifically, undoubtedly aware of the deductions Jack would make. It could not be a coincidence. She was making a point, letting him know that she had figured it out.

Jack stopped at the cell's reinforced glass wall. Clode pointedly finished reading a page, marked it and stood up to join him. She greeted him with a mocking smile.

"Hi, Dad," she said. "Am I still being grounded, or may I play outside?"

It was a casual first strike, which anyone watching would see as another example of Clode's unswerving sense of humor. But Jack knew exactly what it meant. There was also something he could make out behind that smile. Clode had figured out where Jack's questions were going, but she didn't think it to be true. And yet her eyes were saying something else entirely. He could see that beyond the jeering, there was fear. She knew, Jack understood. But she couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.

"Sandro Lorinza stole enough chemicals to build biological weapons, in the last twenty four hours," Jack started off as if Clode hadn't said anything. "Tell me all you know about his plans."

A baffled look flickered on Clode's face, but was resignedly replaced by a more professional mode.

"I don't know them. Back when I was still on the field, his favorite way to raise funds was stealing and selling weapons, art objects – and basically anything he can get ahold of. I do know where he might be hiding, though. He's got an estate just outside of Milan, out of the way."

"Security?"

"My guess would be twenty guards, or let's say thirty to be on the safe side. Video surveillance in the garden and inside the house, two watchtowers, three – maybe four snipers on the roof. A dozen attack dogs. Plus his office and his library are locked with a speech and retina recognition system."

While listening to her listing everything she could remember, Jack took a closer look at the girl than he had been able to for weeks.

"Wait a minute," she said getting a paper pad and a pencil from her bed.

She had gotten them for her drawings, in exchange for intelligence that helped catch a former Alliance member. She ripped off a page – and Jack got a glance at a couple sketches: a forest landscape, caricatures of her guards, a horse… She seemed to have quite a knack for drawing. Unaware of his examining gaze, she started to map out the whole villa, still reciting information about its security.

As he was standing there, images starting crossing his mind – images of a past that had never come to be. A past in which Laura 'died' a year later than she really did, leaving him not one, but two children to raise on his own. And at that second, he saw what Irina had done. Not only to this kid, but also to him and Sydney. This lawless young woman, so bright and talented and full of potential, could have – should have, been his. Jack should have been the one to bring her up. She should have been an ally. She should have fought Sydney for the last pizza slice, or whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher – not for Rambaldi artifacts in the Antarctic ice fields or the Red Army offices. The sudden thought of how many times his daughters had come close to killing each other, turned his blood to ice.

Almost without taking the time to think through what he was about to do, he took a worn out sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and pressed it on the glass as if he was showing her some report. Clode's monologue only wobbled for a second while she was browsing the four labeled columns and their painfully obvious conclusion. Jack saw the click of comprehension in the young woman's eyes. He had seen that same expression once before – in Sydney's eyes, almost two years before, when she found out the truth about her mother.

"Is that all you got?" Clode shouted, slamming the glass that separated her from the DNA strands.

"Yes," Jack answered cool-headedly, deliberately diverting the meaning of her question.

"And how am I supposed to know if it's true?"

"What possible reason could I have for giving you false information when we need your cooperation?"

"None," Elisha replied quietly. "It would make no sense at all."

She looked away and passed him the map through the dedicated opening.

As Jack left, Clode went back to reading her book. But Jack knew that, though it was open, she didn't even see the words. The young woman's gaze was lost into space, just like her thoughts were lost far, so far away from the novel.

Jack wasn't really sure he could explain his actions. He hadn't gone down there with the intention of giving away that much, but when he saw the past that should have been in those eyes, he had been unable to stop himself. And yet it was too late, he thought to himself. Way too late to ask for anything. Wasn't it?

Elisha couldn't bring herself to focus on her book. Or on her drawings, or on exercising – not even on the meditation technique that Irina had taught her. That her… mother had taught her. Dammit, it couldn't be! Irina, her mother ? Bristow, her father ? Syd, her sister ? This had to be a stupid nightmare.

She couldn't fight the tears, but made it a point not to look at the cameras. She wasn't about to let them see her cry.

The anger she felt was uncanny. She was so angry at – at the whole world, actually. At Irina for lying to her, for abandoning her and then placing her into Programme Halcyon, for having manipulated her ever since she was borne. At Bristow for knowing, for showing her that goddamn paper, for not having been there – even though something in her knew that he couldn't be held responsible. At everyone else, for their mere existence. At everyone she'd killed, for haunting her nights, and at those she didn't kill, for haunting her days. At her enemies for keeping her from having her way, and at her allies, for letting her do as she pleased. At God because he didn't exist, or was putting on a pretty good show. At the devil, because she had no soul left to sell…

Hours later, Jack was standing unobserved behind the cell's glass wall. The lights had been dimmed for the night, but it wasn't completely dark. Clode was sitting on her bunk, her arms clenched around her legs, resting her forehead on her knees. Jack could only speculate on what was going on in her mind, but his guess was as good as any.

Everything that Elisha thought made her special was being challenged. Maybe she hadn't caught Irina's attention because she was unique, after all. She had been abandoned, not because her birth was an accident, but because it had been the plan from the start. Everything, absolutely everything had been part of a plan.

Whether it was Irina's decision or her KGB superiors', the end result was the same. She had been brought up in calculated isolation so she couldn't relate to anyone. To promote the independence she had always prided herself on. An agent without any ties, thus without any weakness. _That's at least one thing they've got wrong, Ely. Getting attached can also make you stronger… _Someone she knew well told her that once. She had forgotten those words, it was probably a mistake.

The only purpose of her life had been to show that she was the best. She had played along. All of this was meant to make her the perfect spy, and they had pulled it off alright. Was that all Irina wished her? Becoming a spy, a mercenary, a killer?

It was a lot to process, and Jack knew it. Part of him had begun to wonder if even this was part of Irina's plots. She had given Clode up to them so that she would give up Sloane. But was that the only reason? He hated overestimating her, but he also knew how dangerous it could be to underestimate her. Could she have wanted Clode in detention, knowing that they had the genetic database? Had she wanted Jack to find out about his daughter? Had she wanted Clode to find out what had been done to her? Or maybe he was giving her too much credit. He didn't know anymore.

A small movement inside the cell diverted her attention from the current situation – Clode's shoulders were suddenly tightening. Jack understood that she was losing control.

The young woman didn't even look up when the cell's door opened. Or when Jack sat next to her. There was no sound, except for the air-conditioning and the prisoner's jerky breathing.

"I could kill you," she finally uttered without raising her head.

There was no nuance of threat in her voice: she was only stating a fact.

"It wouldn't get you very far," Jack quietly said.

"Might make me feel better."

"For how long?"

"Probably not long enough to make it worth the strain," she sighed.

There were several minutes of silence again.

"It doesn't change anything," she said matter-of-factly – yet another detached observation.

"No," Jack agreed. "Not a thing."

Jack could see the tension slowly leaving Clode's body.

"Who else knows?"

"Just Marshall."

"Which I guess explains how."

Jack saw her head turning slowly toward him.

"You know… I wasn't expecting my life to turn out this way, you know. I would've preferred a better view, for starters – maybe a nice villa in the south of Italy, or on an island," she said in an insolent tone, behind which Jack could feel deep sadness. "It's so cold here."

That last comment overwhelmed him with its touch of despair. The temperature in the cell may have been lower than it should have, but that was not all Clode meant. The words were simple enough, but in them, Jack heard a terrifying intensity. She was afraid. For the first time in all those months of confinement, Jack realized, she was acknowledging how little control she had on her own life now. Perhaps how little control she had _ever _had on her life.

Not understanding precisely what was happening, Jack saw his hand move toward the young woman's back. He felt her tensing up, her heart speeding up. There was a moment of complete stillness. Then she lay her head on his shoulder for a second. Jack's hand moved to her shoulder, and he held her a little bit tighter.

Elisha then quickly sat up straight, imperceptibly moving away to stifle a sob. Jack knew she was a terrorist, a murderer – yet all he could see at that point was a lost little girl. _His _little girl.

The spasms stopped, and Jack heard Clode's breathing getting back to normal. None of them moved or talked for a long while. Jack found himself picking up a lock of hair that was falling in her eyes. In a comforting gesture, he left his hand on her cheek wet with tears, and thought he felt the faintest smile.

"What about now?" Elisha finally said.

"I don't know."

"If I promise to behave, will I get to go on missions? You let Irina do it."

He smiled at that senseless proposition.

"You could promise to be a saint and the Agency still wouldn't fall for it a second time," he replied, surprised at his own gentle, familiar tone in contrast with his usual professional way of addressing her.

"It's not fair. Just because she was here before me, everyone is twice as suspicious. But things could change. You never know," she said with the same familiarity. "You might need me out there, someday. I'm pretty good at what I do. Kind of a shame to waste all that skill."

She paused before saying:

"Let me look for Sydney."

Jack abruptly took his hand off her. He had interrogated her several times after Sydney disappeared, and his conclusion was that Clode knew nothing more than they did. Mistakenly? She winced and quickly explained:

"I don't know anything more than what already told you. But you know I'm good at that stuff. Let me look for her. The Agency isn't getting anywhere, is it? So let me try. What could you possibly have to lose?"

Elisha didn't really understand what had come to pass. Or rather, she understood it all too well. She hadn't pushed his arm away. She had rested on his shoulder. On CIA agent Jack Bristow's shoulder. A man who, incidentally, was her father, but as they had agreed a few minutes before, it didn't change a thing.

He had nothing to expect from her except self-interested help – looking for Sydney in exchange for a bit of freedom. She had nothing to expect from him except self-interested help – an opportunity to escape in exchange for a chance of finding his daughter. His other daughter, the only one that mattered.

**December 2, 2003. Director Kendall's office.**

"You've got to be kidding me?" Kendall shouted, staring at him in disbelief. "Do I have to remind you that's exactly how we lost Derevko?"

"I appreciate that," Jack patiently granted. "But I also do believe that we could do this. Clode is resourceful. She's just as well-trained and skilled as any CIA agent, and better than most of them. You've seen her on the field. She's…"

"A murderous terrorist who'll work for the highest bidder, is what she is!"

"So we'll just need to make sure that no-one can approach her with a better offer."

"You really think you could give her enough leeway for her to be efficient, and still not enough for her to disappear without a trace like Derevko did?"

"Yes."

Kendall looked at him for a long while.

"Jack – if you lose another one, Devlin will bury you…"

"If there's any chance she'll find out what happened to my daughter, then it's worth the risk."

_* Ending credits *_

* * *

Please leave a review, and if you like this fic, visit my website **Halcyon **_dot_** e-monsite** _dot_** com **_slash_** en** for information about updates, light spoilers, character descriptions and pictures, etc.


	3. Episode 2: Merry Christmas

**Episode 2: Merry Christmas!**

**Previously on Alias: **

_**Author's note: I'm adding some changes compared to the Alias plot, in bold.**_

_In the 1970s, the KGB sends Irina Derevko undercover in the United States, as Laura. She fulfills her mission – seduce and marry Jack Bristow, a CIA agent. They have a daughter, Sydney, in 1975._

_Jack is in charge of developing Project Christmas, a training and conditioning program aimed at children. The idea is to identify gifted children and prepare them to work in intelligence services._

_In 1981, Laura/Irina fakes her death. The CIA figures out that she was working for the Russians, and for a while, suspects Jack was working with her. But only twenty years later will he and Sydney find out that Irina is still alive._

_Once she gets back to Russia, under Alexander Khasinau's orders, Irina develops __**Programme Halcyon**__, a more extreme equivalent of Project Christmas. The children, all Westerners that will fit in more easily amongst the enemy, are kept in a secret base in Belarus, for several years of intensive training._

_The Programme officially comes to an end with Gorbachev's "new détente" and cuts on the military budget, but in fact continues, financed by private investors. The last children graduate in 2002 and become mercenaries. __**Clode**__, Sark and Doren work for Irina, who is at the time operating under the alias The Man. _

_Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Sydney Bristow grew up with an absent father who officially worked in aeronautics. Aching at his wife's betrayal, Jack put his daughter through Project Christmas to make sure she will not be manipulated. _

_Unaware of all this, Sydney is recruited by SD-6, led by Arvin Sloane, who presents it as a secret division of the CIA. Seven years later, when she tells her fiancé the truth about her job, SD-6 has him killed. That is how she finds out that SD- 6 is _not _part of the CIA. Sloane is actually a member of the Alliance of Twelve, an international coalition of former spies gone rogue. _

_So Sydney becomes a double agent for the CIA. She finds out that it is also the road her father took many years earlier. A year and a half later, when SD-6 is destroyed, she keeps on working for the CIA._

_At the time, Irina Derevko is detained by the CIA, but she eventually breaks out and it turns out that her getting caught was part of the plan all along. Shortly after, Irina betrays Sark __**and Clode**__ to help Sydney catch Arvin Sloane, who abducted and is detaining Jack.__** Sark makes a run for it, but Clode is captured by the CIA. She quickly gives away Sloane's location.**_

_Sydney's best friend, Will Tippin, who has always had a crush on her, used to be a journalist. When Danny is killed and the police is clueless, Will decides to investigate. It makes him dangerous for SD-6 and useful for Khasinau, who has him abducted and tortured by Sark __**and Clode**__ in order to know what he found out. Sydney and Jack rescue him, but he has to compromise his credibility as a journalist so that the SD-6 stops seeing him as a threat._

_Sloane, working with Derevko, has Sydney's roommate, Francie Calfo, replaced by a perfect double created through Project Helix: Allison Doren. She becomes romantically involved with Will, now a CIA analyst. When there begins to be suspicions, Allison frames Will as the double, but Sydney proves his innocence._

_When Will figures out that Fran/Allison is the double, she stabs him and leaves him for dead. But he had left a message on Sydney's cell. Allison understands that she knows. They fight, Sydney shoots Allison dead, then passes out._

_Sydney's house burns down and a charred body is found with her DNA. __**Yet **__**Jack doesn't buy into his daughter's death, and he keeps on looking for her. **__Will has gotten over his wounds and __**is working as a CIA analyst again**__._

_Sloane has been granted a pardon in exchange for information and is at the head of a philanthropist organization for hunger relief and medical research._

_**Elisha Clode is detained in the CIA building basement.**_

* * *

**Previously on Halcyon **(from October to December 2003)

_Marshall finds out through the Stuttgart DNA database that Jack and Irina had a second daughter: Elisha Clode. Irina was pregnant when she faked her death. Jack doesn't want anyone else to know._

_Elisha figures it out when Jack asks unusual questions. They both agree that it doesn't change anything._

_Yet Jack talks Kendall into sending her on the field, in order to look for Sydney._

_We find out a few things about Elisha's past: she grew up in an Irish orphanage until she turned eight, and then Irina came for her and placed her into Programme Halcyon. She doesn't exactly remember it fondly._

_Meanwhile, Irina gets in touch with Sark and asks him to get Clode out: according to her, the prisoner should be going out on a mission soon, and the only thing to do is wait. But for some reason, she insists that under no circumstances Sark should tell Clode who hired him to help her. _

_Kendall agrees on using Clode, but warns Jack: _

"_If you lose another one, Devlin will bury you."_

* * *

* Opening credits *

**December 4, 2003. Underground level of confinement. **

Jack wondered once again why he had tried so hard to convince Kendall. And once again he came to the conclusion that he had no other option. Clode was one of the best, and she was not personally involved – even though Syd was her sister – which gave her quite an edge compared to agents Vaughn, Weiss or Dixon.

No matter what reservations agent Bristow still had about Clode, questions about her skills were in no way a part of them. If she had decided that finding Sydney was in her interest, Jack had no doubt she would be extremely effective. She would simply need to be properly motivated.

"What do you want?" Jack had asked.

"I want my life back."

"Something we can actually give you," he sighed.

The young woman's literal interpretations had a way of annoying him.

She stayed still for a moment, staring at a point on the wall behind him, before answering:

"You know I don't care who I work for. And in the end, just between the two of us, I don't really care how much I'm paid. I'm not in this for money or politics. I'm doing this because it's the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I'm really good at. And because I like it, in a way. Just let me do it. Let me work for you, and I'll do whatever you want.

Jack observed her through the glass, listening to her blend of truths and lies and trying to pick them apart.

"We've already offered you the same deal as we did Derevko – your life for your cooperation."

"That's not what I'm suggesting."

He almost laughed when he understood what the young woman was asking for.

"The CIA is not as… flexible, as SD-6 was when they hired Sark. We don't make it a habit to recruit the enemy as field agents. Not without some kind of leverage. You double-crossed every associate you've ever had. We have absolutely no guarantee that you wouldn't do exactly the same as soon as you get a chance, and every reason believe you would."

"You could trust me."

Jack laughed again. Clode allowed herself a jaded smile.

"No," he replied shaking his head. "You know we really couldn't. We don't have any way of ensuring your loyalty once you get out of these walls. And I'm afraid your word is somewhat not enough."

The agent sighed and asked a more appropriate question.

"What do you need?"

"What can I get?" she answered, with a slight ironic smile, and then she shrugged philosophically and sighed when she saw that Jack wasn't playing along. "I've had no contact with the outside world for over eight months. I need information. And you should also give me something I could sell – unless you want me to find it by myself?"

Seeing that Jack didn't blink an eye, she said with a spark of laughter in her eyes:

"Fine, I'll use my own ways. But I'll still need to check my pieces of intelligence are still up to date."

**December 5, 2003. CIA office.**

That's why they ended up in front of a computer, in the upper levels of the building. A small army was lined up around them. Clode was typing on the keyboard without taking notice of them; Marshall was looking over her shoulder, his expression switching between interest and fear, respect and horror, while he was trying to check that Clode kept well within the restrictions set on the device. Jack was standing behind Clode's other shoulder, following her progress.

Personally, he thought Kendall's insistence on having a whole contingent of armed guards watching Clode was a tiny bit over-the-top. Rather than intimidating the prisoner, as the director no doubt was trying to, this display of strength must seem pretty laughable to her.

Elisha had the hardest time refraining from smiling. The situation was downright ludicrous. Ten armed men for little old her, admittedly she was pretty good, but still, she didn't have a death wish. She wasn't about to try to run off from the center of a CIA building where half the personnel carried a weapon, when she couldn't even touch a paper clip without all hell breaking loose – she'd have to ask Jack how someone could possibly escape from a high security CIA facility with a _paper clip_!

But in the end, it was playing to her advantage. They were so sure she was no threat just because they could control her physically, whereas the only thing they should have been paying attention to was the computer. Granted, Marshall was there – the only one who might have been able to hinder her undertakings, but if she went about it the right way, she'd be able to fool him too.

She had requested to use a computer pretexting she needed to check her intel, so she only had access to a limited number of files. But the device also had Internet access, in order for the information to be updated in real time. The only thing she had to do, then, was leaving fragments of code in these files, so that someone who'd know what to look for, and who'd have the means of accessing them, could put them together and read the whole message.

She didn't know for sure whether someone would be willing to help her. She was hoping it would be in someone's interest somehow. Maybe Julian – who knows…?

**Paris, December 2003. In a hotel.**

Sark was typing on his laptop. His utterly focused look turned into a smile. Elisha really was the best – well, except for him. She had managed to leave a coded message for him. Irina was right: she had found a way to access a computer, which was step one. The second was convincing the CIA to send her on a mission.

He put the pieces of the message back together from the scattered files. Once decoded, it read:

_Hi, whoever is reading this, I wouldn't say no to a bit of help getting out of here. The food sucks and the cell is cold. Hoping to be sent on a mission to Bombay pretty soon. Be ready. _

No question, Clode hadn't changed one bit. Upon reflection, Sark was pretty glad Derevko wanted her out, even though her reasons remained pretty obscure to him.

**Back to Los Angeles, in the CIA's building. **

Will was walking toward a briefing room, when he saw her. Elisha Clode. Sitting at a computer, surrounded by a dozen guards. A lot of people were staring from their cubicles. They all knew who she was. "What is she doing here?" he wondered, like they all did. Except, not a single one of them was as affected as he was – not a single one of them had been abducted and tortured on that girl's orders.

He could not help being curious, so he walked toward Jack, who was standing behind her and watching her every move.

"Jack – can you tell me what's going on?"

The agent turned around, and Clode's eyes moved away from the screen. He met her gaze, then she looked down and went back to her work. Jack took him aside.

"She's looking up some information."

"What for?"

Bristow lingered for a second before answering:

"In order to go back on the field. We're using her to look for Sydney."

"You're doing _what_?"

"Will, I –"

"Never mind, it's your problem. I just thought you wouldn't make the same mistake as you did with Derevko."

Will walked away quickly, trying not to show that he cared more than he would have liked. Clode was a killer. And if anyone asked him, they were pretty much letting her walk away. Sydney's mother had set a good example of how it could turn out…

**Mumbai, India. December 21****st****, 2003.**

Jack and Elisha were walking toward a bank, where the mercenary had left the schematics of a weapon prototype she had stolen before she was arrested. Selling that prototype would make a perfect comeback to the field. But she was the only one who could open the safe – no high-tech security system there, just a contract that specified the only person who could access it was the account holder.

"I just wanted to say I think it's a terrible idea."

"I'll add your name to the list, agent Weiss," Kendall replied.

Both their voices were crackling in Bristow and Clode's earplugs. Jack could hear how displeased the men were at the whole thing, despite the thousands of miles between them and Los Angeles.

"I think they don't like me very much," Clode ironized.

"Your fan base seems to be pretty weak among CIA operatives, for some reason," Jack said with his usual cold, professional tone, knowing that their words were being relayed to the CIA building.

The young woman was very much enjoying her first time out of confinement in over six months; Bristow wasn't quite sure whether that should worry him. Was she just happy to be back in the fight, or optimistic about her first opportunity for escape since she was captured?

_**Los Angeles, a week before. CIA office.**_

_Kendall and Jack had agreed on how much of a waste of taxpayers' money it would have been to use traditional methods in order to track Clode. One needed only to remember how these had failed to keep Sark in line for SD-6, or Derevko for the CIA. Even passive tracking devices were no use. After much thinking, though, Marshall had thought up a plan that had reasonable chances to work._

"_Entirely organic," he had explained. "Virtually undetectable. But, uh... could you maybe not tell her I had something to do with it?"_

_It was a simple biodegradable capsule, designed to dissolve in thirty-six hours. Unless it was extracted by that deadline, a lethal dose of poison would be released as the capsule broke. Clode had been sedated for the injection, so that she couldn't know where they put it. So even if she escaped Jack's vigilance, she was not very likely to locate the capsule before the poison killed her – since it contained no metal, no radioactivity, or anything that could be detected through any kind of analysis._

"_Please just don't forget where you put it," the young woman said before they anesthetized her. "Lethal injection is not really my thing, the electric chair seems so much more fun!"_

Clode and Jack walked into the bank. A man was expecting them, he took them to the safe deposit room and left them alone there. Clode typed her code in, and the safe opened. She jerked away from it.

"Wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea," she explained.

And indeed, the safe contained, not only the schematics locked in a box, a dozen passports and IDs bearing different names, a set of clothes, and a wig, but also and more importantly, two revolvers and a P-90.

"How many stashes like that do you have?" Bristow asked.

"As many as there are cities in which I might need them," she answered, grabbing the schematics box. "A lot. But don't expect me to point them out to you, I might need them if I ever get out – ah, note to self. Mumbai safe compromised, find another."

"Don't go and make long-term plans," Kendall intervened in her earplug, "especially not assuming that you'll get out."

"And what kind of plans would you have me make? Decorating my cell? It's depressing. You didn't even give me posters, probably out of fear that I might commit _suicide_ with the pushpins… Gotta dream about _something_…"

Beyond the cheerful tone, Jack thought he heard that same sadness as that time in her cell. But he didn't get to ponder it for long, because gun shots broke out in the hallway.

Jack took out his weapon and didn't bother to react when Elisha grabbed one of the revolvers from the safe. He opened the door; a commando group had just shot two security guys at the end of the hallway. They proceeded to open fire on agent Bristow, who took refuge behind the door, then fired back.

"Who are these guys?" he shouted to Elisha, trying to be heard over the deflagrations.

"No clue," she replied. "Take your pick, lots of people have a beef against me and/or are interested by these schematics! We can get out through the back door there, at the other end of the hallway. Take the schematics, I'll cover for you!"

He obeyed and ran away from the gunfire. She stuck her head through the door and shot on their assailants so that he had enough time to reach the emergency exit.

And only then did she sense someone approaching behind her. Too late – she felt a hand pressed against her mouth before she could even move.

"Keep on shooting to fool them," the intruder whispered to her.

She turned around when he let her go, noticed the ventilation shaft door was open – that's where he had come from – and she recognized him.

Sark saw surprise on her face. She held back a shout, and turned around to shoot a couple times before getting back to him.

"Audio?" he asked without a sound, only mouthing the words.

He read the answer on Elisha's lips, who was showing her earplug.

"Yes. Can't shut down the communication without them suspecting something."

She shot once more through the door.

"Good to see you. That was quick, I've only been locked up for _eight months_!"

Even though she was only articulating the words, he could almost hear her tone of voice, exasperated, incensed, resentful. An impression that was confirmed by the stubborn pout on Elisha's face.

"We had no way to contact you as long as you were in solitary confinement."

"We? I should have known… Someone paid you to help me, haven't they?"

He knew it was no use trying to deny it.

"But I was glad to accept the job."

She rolled her eyes, not too convinced, and shot once again.

"And who is my benefactor?"

"Can't say for now. Except for the audio, I'm guessing they have other measures to keep you on a leash?"

"Poison capsule that degrades itself in thirty-six hours. Don't know where they injected it."

"Bummer."

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm coming," she said loudly, answering to Bristow on her comm. "I gotta go," she mouthed. "I'll keep you informed of how things turn out if I gain access to a computer again."

As she was about to go, he grabbed her arm and gave her a flash drive.

"Put it with the schematics and tell them it's a 3D model of the prototype."

She had no time to ask questions, so she just hid it in her hair, stuck to her rubber band.

"Are you alright?" Jack worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm coming," she replied just before a shot was fired.

"What the hell are you doing, Clode?" Kendall asked from LA.

"Can't you hear? I'm picking flowers to make a bouquet, since we were talking about decorating my cell earlier. Jack, could you give me cover? Right… now."

And that's what he did: he opened the service door and opened fire on the commando group. Only three men were still standing, the rest of them were lying on the ground. Elisha came out of a different room than the safe deposit room, where she must have taken refuge. She ran to him.

**A cargo plane somewhere on top of the Pacific Ocean, 3 hours later. **

Julian was making it all sound easy, but Elisha was the one who'd have to place the flash drive in the box and get everyone to believe it had been in there the whole time. Jack was sitting in front of her, reading a file.

"Could you hand me the box?" she uttered, once she had placed the flash drive from her hair in her left sleeve.

"Why?"

"Because _this_ is the only key," she answered, showing the tip of her right index finger. "And I'd really rather go straight to the O.R. once we get to the CIA, considering I've got a nice little capsule running loose inside my body!"

He gazed at her for a little while, then he handed her the box. Elisha, feeling his eyes on her, put her finger on the screen. It displayed 'Print Match' in green letters as the mechanism unlocked. Slightly tilting her left arm, she got the flash drive to slide into the box. Jack hadn't seen a thing. She gave the box back to him.

"What's on the flash drive?" he asked.

"A 3D prototype. I downloaded it from the lab's computer when I stole the schematics."

"Is it worth a lot?"

She puckered her lips up.

"A little bit. It'll spare the buyer from interpreting the schematics and choosing materials. It adds something like fifty thousand dollars to the price."

After a short silence, she changed the subject.

"Have you never thought that Sydney might have disappeared willingly? She hated the job," she added when he didn't react. "It took so much from her, and gave her back so little. Don't you think maybe losing Tippin and Calfo could have driven her to disappear? Maybe she wanted to get away from all of this, from all of you?"

Jack didn't say a thing, and the look in his eyes was an obvious indication that Clode should have held her peace. But after a while, she just couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry. I'm not saying this to… Believe me, I'm not trying to make things any harder than they already are. It's just… You've got to accept the possibility that she might have left on her own free will. You need to be just as ready to see her not want to come back once I find her, as you are to find out that she's being held captive or…"

"I know what I need," Jack replied. "I need to know what's happened to my daughter. Don't you think I've considered the possibility that she chose to leave this life behind? Don't you think I've seen what this job did to her? I'm ready to accept that she might not want to come back. I could even understand it," he whispered. "I just need to know she's alright. I just want to know what happened."

Elisha slowly nodded her head, pensive.

"And what will you do next? If we find her and she doesn't want to come back?"

"I'd let her go."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

_That would be the least I could do,_ he thought to himself. After all he had already done…

"But that does _not_ mean it's my main theory," Jack added. "I still think it was not her choice. We'll assume she was abducted until we get solid evidence indicating the contrary."

"Of course."

None of them said it out loud – that evidence of anything at all, even thin, would be more than what they had at the moment.

Clode's good mood seemed to have vanished into thin air. She was now deep in a sour silence that Jack could not entirely explain by the prospect of going back into her cell. Replaying in his mind their conversation, the CIA agent finally understood. She had not liked his answer. She had not liked the possibility for Sydney to get a choice she didn't have, a choice she would never have. Clode didn't see that much of a difference between Sydney and herself. When he looked at the situation from her point of view, Jack could almost understand how unfair the young woman must find it all.

He jerked out of his thoughts when one of the guards stood up. Seeing him walking towards Clode with handcuffs, Jack realized they were about to land.

"This is really not necessary," Elisha grumbled. "I haven't tried to escape back in India, so why the hell would I want to in the middle of a CIA base?"

"It's protocol," the man said. "Don't make me restrain you."

Agent Bristow noticed the provoking smile on the young woman's face, and the stubborn spark in her eyes.

"Elisha!" he sighed in exasperation.

He couldn't have told which one of them was more taken aback. It had come out just like that, he didn't know why. Clode seemed just as stunned as he was, perhaps because he'd used her first name, or by his tone of voice, Jack wasn't quite sure.

Impervious to what had just come to pass, the guard simply cuffed the prisoner, who didn't resist. Jack noticed that her sour face had disappeared and left in her gaze something like confusion. He wondered for a second what his own expression was like.

After a moment of intense eye contact, Clode turned around abruptly. She carefully avoided his gaze till the landing, and even afterwards, when she was taken to the O.R. Jack would have given lots of money to know what was going on behind the gold of those eyes…

Elisha didn't quite know herself. So Bristow had called her by her first name, in that tone, fine. But what was upsetting her, worrying her, was her own reaction. She had complied. She had given in. Why?

There was no reason for her to do so. She was not afraid of Jack Bristow. Well, at least as long as he wasn't pointing a gun at her – or as she hadn't done anything to his daughter… well, to his other daughter. Her sister. Whatever, she'd never get used to this.

Deep down, she knew what had happened all too well. And that was freaking her out. He had given her an order. Not the superior-subordinate kind. An order from father to daughter. And she had obeyed it.

**Los Angeles. December 23, 2003. CIA office.**

Two days later, Jack was still unable to describe what had happened in that plane that night. First of all, Clode's behavior was off. She was pragmatic, efficient. Resisting the guard for something as insignificant as cuffs was futile and sterile. It wasn't like her…

He would normally have expected a resigned sigh as she complied, maybe an amused smile at seeing how terrified of her they were. She had to be truly upset.

And that led Jack to accept what he had tried not to see. Even though he had intellectually acknowledged that Marshall's deductions were undeniable, he had not realized how his perception of the situation had changed.

Regardless of their kinship, the young woman simply was the most precious agent at his disposal to help finding Sydney. She was unemotional, merciless, purposeful, and detached. She was Clode.

Only he called her Elisha.

He had uttered her first name in a tone, in a way that required to be obeyed. He knew it was no commanding officer's order to a subordinate, no guard's command to his prisoner. It was a father's command to his child, and even though she had never heard one before, Clode had quite obviously understood it exactly like that.

With that name, and that tone, Jack had acknowledged their relationship in a way. From the very beginning, they had agreed that knowing about their connection didn't change a thing. But either way, in some way, somehow, something _had _changed.

**Los Angeles. ****December 24, 2003. ****Underground level of confinement.**

It had to be close to midnight. And Elisha couldn't sleep. She was trying to convince herself it had nothing to do with the fact that it was Christmas Eve. Not very successfully.

What did it matter what day it was? It was December 24, so what? Just a day like any other, it could just easily have been December 23 or 27. That's what she'd been telling herself every year for years.

She had never had a real Christmas. At least not like most people meant it.

_December 24, 1988 – Saint Thomas orphanage, Cleggan, Galway County, Ireland._

_Elisha was six.__She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, in the room she shared with four other girls.__Everyone was downstairs decorating the Christmas tree; but she was not moving._

_Dinner would be a bit more refined than usual tonight.__And tomorrow morning, they'd open the presents – no surprise, one orange per child and a book for the most studious ones.__Everyone would act happy to keep the pretense up for the smallest kids. __Some would even pretty much settle for it.__Not Elisha._

_She didn't really know what she wanted it to be like.__She'd never had a family, so she had nothing to look back to, unlike many others.__Maybe she just wished they'd stop celebrating Christmas, since it made her so unhappy. __Because it was the day she felt, more strongly than ever, that she had no family.__That she never would.__That she was alone._

_December 24, 1993 – Programme Halcyon, near Minsk, Belarus._

_Elisha stepped into her room.__She'd just finished hand-to-hand combat training.__No Christmas celebrations at Halcyon.__Didn't make her any less sad.__Didn't keep her from knowing what day it was._

_Any other day in the calendar, she was able to convince herself she _had _found the family she'd been looking for.__Irina, the other instructors, the children.__But on Christmas Eve, all the silliness of that notion became clear. __A family?__What kind of family trains its children to become spies?__To fight, to lie, to kill?_

_No.__And family is supposed to love each other. __There was none of that in the Programme.__Elisha appreciated some of the instructors, she liked some of her fellow trainees.__But between them, there was always competition. __She had to be better than them, she had to be the best if she wanted to survive longer._

_It was Christmas, and she was still alone._

_December 24, 2002 – A hotel room in Paris. _

_Elisha was back from a mission.__Killing a Chinese diplomat, getting his briefcase.__She didn't even know what was inside, she was not going to open it.__She didn't even know why he had to die, she was not going to ask.__What did it matter?_

_Elisha had quickly climbed the ladder in Irina's organization.__She was good at what she did.__Pretending she was someone else, lying, torturing, stealing, killing._

_It had been a long time since she'd last thought about the family she'd never known.__One year, actually.__She knew it served no purpose torturing herself, imagining the life she would have had, what her parents would have been like, whether she would have had siblings...__She just couldn't help herself.__She couldn't refrain from thinking about it, for a couple of hours, on the night between the 24__th__ and the 25__th__ of December.__And on the next day, life went on and she stopped thinking about it._

Now Elisha knew. Her father was a CIA agent and her mother, a Russian spy who had been on a mission to seduce him. Her mother had been right there, so close, for almost fifteen years, and she had never said a word about it. She had let her become a killer, no, she had _trained_ her to become a killer. Had she even felt anything for her, just once in twenty years? Had she loved her at all?

She also had a sister. Who just happened to have been her worst enemy for the last two years, well, before she "died" that is.

Yup, she knew. And now she had to persuade her father that she could help him find that sister so that he let her out of her cell, so that she might succeed to escape.

Merry Christmas, my beloved family!

**December 30, 2003. CIA offices.**

Marshall was studying the schematics Jack and Clode had brought back, and the 3D model of the prototype, when an alarm started blinking on his screen.

In a panic, he ran to Director Kendall's office, double back when he saw it was empty, and eventually found him in Jack's office.

"Sir," he cut them off. "We need to…"

"What is it, Marshall?" Kendall sighed.

"A virus is penetrating our system."

"What?"

"A… a virus, sir. Or perhaps a worm. We need to get everyone off the network and to turn off all the computers, and cross our fingers it won't do too much harm."

Kendall promptly walked out of the office and shouted for everyone to hear:

"Listen up! Everyone log off the network and turn off your computers. And I mean _now_!"

Then he turned around to face Marshall: "Where could it have come from?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense, every disk and diskette, every flash drive, everything that comes from outside the building is checked. No way the virus came from there. So either someone found a way to access the system through our Internet connection, which is pretty unlikely considering the firewalls we have in place, it's the CIA for crying out loud, and I have to admit that I added a couple modifications... Anyway. The second – uh – alternative is not, not going to sit well with you. It is… possible, well, conceivable – no, likely, that it came from the inside."

**Underground corridors of the CIA offices, 10 minutes later.**

"Are you quite sure it's the only way, Marshall?" Kendall asked for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, sir," he sighed. "She's proficient with those systems."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Jack replied. "It reminds me too much of the scenario Derevko used to get to a computer for me to feel comfortable about this."

"I know what you mean, it does feel like déjà-vu," Kendall added.

"I appreciate that, but this worm will stick around in our systems if she doesn't come in," Marshall insisted. "We might be able to get rid of it for a while, at best. "But it'd come back as soon as someone logged onto the Internet, or when whoever brought it starts it on again. It would do a lot of damage. And I can hardly imagine us forbidding Internet connections and the use of flash drives, CD-ROMs and all kinds of memory cards… It would not be – uh, very... convenient."

They got to Clode's cell.

"Oh, visitors!" she exclaimed, walking to the glass. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

"A worm has penetrated our IT system," Kendall explained.

"Well actually, we don't know if it's a worm or a virus," Marshall added.

"Uh, what's the difference?" Weiss asked, joining the group.

"A worm reproduces itself through an IT network such as the Internet or our in-house network," Marshall answered. "A virus spreads through the sharing of data, like on the Internet or with diskettes, disks and flash drives."

"And you want my help?" Elisha asked, smiling half in disbelief, half in jest.

"_Can_ you help?" Kendall enquired.

"Obviously," she assured. "Do you have any idea how it got to your network?" she asked Marshall.

"We're not quite sure. "We – uh," he hesitated, turning to Kendall, who nodded resignedly. "We're considering it might come from the inside."

Elisha struggled to hold back a wide smile. "A mole?"

"We're considering every possibility," Jack replied.

"Fine, I'll take care of it whenever you like. You never know, I might even find the source of the problem."

Elisha was overjoyed. She'd been suspecting something of the kind, and had understood as soon as they came in. There was a virus on Julian's drive. Impossible to detect, from the looks of it – the CIA probably checked that kind of stuff before they plugged in a flash drive provided by a terrorist.

They didn't suspect a thing. They didn't imagine for a second that the virus could have come from there. They were even considering a mole might have introduced it in the system.

Everything was going according to plan. She would be sent on another mission, she would be able to give Julian a heads-up, and they'd find a way to disable the poison capsule. And the best part was that Elisha didn't have a thing to do. Just wait and see.

**Los Angeles. January 2, 2004. CIA offices.**

The phone rang in Director Kendall's office. He answered.

"Kendall."

"It's me," Sydney Bristow's voice replied.

**The next day, in a CIA safe house in Tuscany.**

Kendall came in, and Sydney started bombarding him with questions.

"Does my father know I'm alive? Does Vaughn?"

"They'll be informed as soon as possible."

She was walking back and forth in the room while her boss was standing in front of her. "So they _don't_ know. What about Will? Did he make it?"

"What you've been through could affect national security."

Sydney stopped walking and stared at him like he was speaking Chinese.

"I gotta talk to them. I want you to call them!"

She got closer to him and they started raising their voices.

"You'll get answers to all your questions…"

"Right now!"

"… in good time, but first, we need to know what happened to you!"

She turned her gaze, sat, and started to talk.

"I shot her…" she whispered, reliving the scene.

_Sydney shoots Allison, then collapses against the wall._

"Three times. Then I passed out. When I regained consciousness, several days later, I was in the back of a truck, my hands and feet were tied."

_Her eyes closed, her mouth covered with duct tape, the spy comes to, wheezes, and starts writhing. __There's a doctor.__She looks at him, in a shock, confused._

"_You and I are going to work together.__We will spend a lot of time together.__And we will achieve the results my employers asked for.__I always succeed."_

_He sinks a syringe into her arm._

"He gave me a shot of a neurotoxin. Temporary paralysis. I couldn't move or speak. I could only watch."

_The doctor placed her so that she could see through the back window._

"_It was simple enough for your flatmate.__We dug her up.__And we left her in your apartment before we set in on fire."_

_Sydney could see a beach, the weather was overcast and she felt cold.__Black-clad figures were gathered by the water._

"_But for you, now _that _was more difficult.__When a body is burned to ashes, the DNA they use for testing is the one in our teeth.__So we took the pulp from your teeth."_

_On the beach, there were Jack, Dixon, Kendall, Marshall, Weiss and Vaughn, facing a minister.__Marshall was crying, Vaughn was carrying an urn._

"_And we injected it into the teeth of the corpse we put in your place._"

_Vaughn was standing by the waterside, dispersing the ashes in the sea.__Then Sydney saw Jack, whose pain showed for the first time._

"_Of course, they ran tests on the body_._To them, it was you."_

_Weiss and Vaughn headed off the beach, and the others followed.__Sydney couldn't take her eyes off of them.__Michael was about to open his car's door, but he stops for a moment and turns around to hug his friend, eyes closed, devastated._

"_He'll cry, and then he'll move on.__Maybe move on to someone else."_

_The doctor put his hand on Sydney's chin and turned her away from the two agents until she was looking straight at him._

"_The sooner you accept that you are not the woman you were, the easier it'll be.__Sydney Bristow… is no more._"

* Ending credits *


	4. Episode 3: Double Dealing

**Episode 3: Double dealing**

_From trust arises betrayal.  
(Arabian saying)_

* * *

**Previously on Alias:**  
_**Author's note: I'm adding some changes compared to the Alias plot, in bold.**_

_In the 1970s, the KGB sends Irina Derevko undercover in the United States, as Laura. She fulfills her mission – seduce and marry Jack Bristow, a CIA agent. They have a daughter, Sydney, in 1975._

_Jack is in charge of developing Project Christmas, a training and conditioning program aimed at children. The idea is to identify gifted children and prepare them to work in intelligence services._

_In 1981, Laura/Irina fakes her death. The CIA figures out that she was working for the Russians, and for a while, suspects Jack was working with her. But only twenty years later will he and Sydney find out that Irina is still alive._

_Once she gets back to Russia, under Alexander Khasinau's orders, Irina develops __**Programme Halcyon**__, a more extreme equivalent of Project Christmas. The children, all Westerners that will fit in more easily amongst the enemy, are kept in a secret base in Belarus, for several years of intensive training._

_The Programme officially comes to an end with Gorbachev's "new détente" and cuts on the military budget, but in fact continues, financed by private investors. The last children graduate in 2002 and become mercenaries. __**Clode**__, Sark and Doren work for Irina, who is at the time operating under the alias The Man. _

_Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Sydney Bristow grew up with an absent father who officially worked in aeronautics. Aching at his wife's betrayal, Jack put his daughter through Project Christmas to make sure she will not be manipulated. _

_Unaware of all this, Sydney is recruited by SD-6, led by Arvin Sloane, who presents it as a secret division of the CIA. Seven years later, when she tells her fiancé the truth about her job, SD-6 has him killed. That is how she finds out that SD- 6 is _not _part of the CIA. Sloane is actually a member of the Alliance of Twelve, an international coalition of former spies gone rogue. _

_So Sydney becomes a double agent for the CIA. She finds out that it is also the road her father took many years earlier. A year and a half later, when SD-6 is destroyed, she keeps on working for the CIA._

_At the time, Irina Derevko is detained by the CIA, but she eventually breaks out and it turns out that her getting caught was part of the plan all along. Shortly after, Irina betrays Sark __**and Clode**__ to help Sydney catch Arvin Sloane, who abducted and is detaining Jack.__** Sark makes a run for it, but Clode is captured by the CIA. She quickly gives away Sloane's location.**_

_Sydney's best friend, Will Tippin, who has always had a crush on her, used to be a journalist. When Danny is killed and the police are clueless, Will decides to investigate. It makes him dangerous for SD-6 and useful for Khasinau, who has him abducted and tortured by Sark __**and Clode**__ in order to know what he found out. Sydney and Jack rescue him, but he has to compromise his credibility as a journalist so that the SD-6 stops seeing him as a threat._

_Sloane, working with Derevko, has Sydney's roommate, Francie Calfo, replaced by a perfect double created through Project Helix: Allison Doren. She becomes romantically involved with Will, now a CIA analyst. When there begins to be suspicions, Allison frames Will as the double, but Sydney proves his innocence._

_When Will figures out that Fran/Allison is the double, she stabs him and leaves him for dead. But he had left a message on Sydney's cell. Allison understands that she knows. They fight; Sydney shoots Allison dead, then passes out._

_Sydney's house burns down and a charred body is found with her DNA. __**Yet **__**Jack doesn't buy into his daughter's death, and he keeps on looking for her. **__Will has gotten over his wounds and __**is working as a CIA analyst again**__._

_Sloane has been granted a pardon in exchange for information and is at the head of a philanthropist organization for hunger relief and medical research._

_**Elisha Clode is detained in the CIA building basement. **_

**Previously on Halcyon **(from October to January 2003)

_Marshall finds out through the Stuttgart DNA database that Jack and Irina had a second daughter: Elisha Clode. Irina was pregnant when she faked her death. Jack doesn't want anyone else to know._

_Elisha figures it out when Jack asks unusual questions. They both agree that it doesn't change anything._

_Yet Jack talks Kendall into sending her on the field, in order to look for Sydney._

_We find out a few things about Elisha's past: she grew up in an Irish orphanage until she turned eight, and then Irina came for her and placed her into Programme Halcyon. She doesn't exactly remember it fondly._

_Meanwhile, Irina gets in touch with Sark and asks him to get Clode out: according to her, the prisoner should be going out on a mission soon, and the only thing to do is wait. But for some reason, she insists that under no circumstances Sark should tell Clode who hired him to help her. _

_Kendall agrees on using Clode, but warns Jack: _

"_If you lose another one, Devlin will bury you."_

_Elisha gets a computer access in order to verify her information. She takes advantage of it to send a coded message, in which she announces she'll probably be sent to Mumbai on a mission soon. Sark receives it._

_Marshall has invented a biodegradable poison capsule which dissolves itself in thirty six hours, in order to control Elisha. She is sedated for the injection, so that she doesn't know where it is located. If it is not extracted in thirty six hours, a lethal dose of poison is released._

_She and Jack go to India on a mission to get the schematics of a weapon prototype that she had stolen before she was arrested. The idea is to sell it for her comeback to the field._

_They are attacked by a commando group and they split up, which allows Sark to contact Clode. She tells him about the capsule. He gives her a flash drive for her to put with the schematics, and doesn't have time to give her more details._

_When the guard tries to cuff Elisha before they land in Los Angeles, she doesn't let him. "Elisha!" Jack sighs in exasperation. And Elisha stops resisting._

_Marshall finds out there's a virus on the CIA network. Kendall has all computers shut down and asks for Elisha's help, because she knows those systems well._

_Which is exactly what Sark had planned: the virus comes from his flash drive._

_Kendall gets a phone call from Sydney and meets her in a safe house in Tuscany. She tells him the Covenant had her the whole time and that they think they've successfully brainwashed her._

* * *

* Opening credits *

**January 3, 2004. CIA safe house in Tuscany.**

Sydney kept on telling her story, even though reliving those events was not particularly pleasant – and she would have rather had answers to her questions.

"After my funeral, he took me to a place owned by the Covenant. That doctor was Oleg Matrijik. He seemed to believe that they needed me. So he tried to brainwash me. For months, he deprived me of food, of sleep, he made me lose my bearings, he tortured me with electroshocks… Only when he was convinced that I was broken did he begin conditioning me through hypnosis."

_Oleg is standing close to a drawn-looking, thinner Sydney who is sitting in front of images projected on a screen. _

"_Your name is Julia Thorne. You were born in London on August 2, 1973."_

_My name is Sydney Bristow, you son of a bitch!" _

_Oleg injected something into the spy's arm._

"He used narcotics to disorient me. He was bombarding me with information and images. Nothing new, but always a nice touch."

_The pictures projected in front of Sydney were reflected on her face._

"_Julia, your father was Kenneth Thorne. You are Julia."_

_Photographs were passing before her eyes – a little girl's birthday, a happy family…_

"_Your brothers, Daniel and Tom… The Latin school… You were the only survivor… Your confirmation at the Old Souls Church…"_

_Syd was staring at the images, in a trance. Oleg's words were starting to get all mixed together._

_"You lost your family in a fire… You were the only survivor… Then you became a hired gun... You showed no mercy. Your first victims were the men who'd destroyed your family... You are Julia."_

**January 5, 2004, underground cell in the Los Angeles CIA offices.**

Elisha had had no problem to put out of service the flash drive virus. It was almost like Sark had designed it especially for her. Which he had, she remembered with a smile. She had even allowed herself the luxury of spinning it out a bit, in an attempt to give Kendall the impression that she couldn't quite have been able to take care of it with her eyes closed.

Kendall, who had vanished God-knows-where for the last couple of days, leaving Jack in command. Elisha would have tried to make the most of it to get special privileges – you never know, family spirit could have miraculously dawned on him – but she was too concerned with the message Sark had left for her when programming that charming virus. A rendezvous.

Two months later in Moscow. Two months from today, that was how much time she had to gain Jack Bristow's trust, set up a context favorable to a mission in Moscow, and incidentally, to find a solution to avoid death by poison, what with Marshall's capsule and all. It was sure going to be tight!

Well, of course she was very talented, but everything has limits, and Irina's recent stay in Los Angeles, though it obviously had not taught the CIA all much-needed lessons, still remained a vivid enough memory to make Elisha's job much harder. Plus, the field missions that Kendall was sending her on more and more often didn't leave her many idle hours – she was almost coming to regret her deadly boring days in the underground level. Almost.

**January 6, 2004, a plane above the Atlantic.**

After the success of the Mumbai mission, and Elisha's contribution in disabling the virus – even though she hadn't been able to figure out where it came from – Kendall had apparently gotten used to the idea of her working on the field, and placed more trust in his ability to keep her on a leash. Jack realized he had – once again – thought of her as _Elisha_. It was happening more and more often, and he didn't know what to make of it. However hard he tried to convince himself that it was only a name, her name at that, he knew that it exemplified his change of perspective. He was just hoping what objectivity he had left would be enough to not let her loose.

Anyhow, Kendall had quickly approved a second mission, which was simply the logical consequence of the first. It would allow Clode to reappear in certain circles; but it would also get the CIA valuable information about the circles in question. Over the couple of years before she was captured, the young woman had earned herself a reputation which would open a lot of doors, impervious to any other kind of espionage, even with the means the CIA had at its disposal, and the skills of agents like Sydney.

"And all that for bed, board, and the occasional surgery!" Clode curtly joked.

"I thought money didn't matter," Jack said.

He didn't expect a reply, and Clode didn't offer one. Jack studied the girl sitting in front of him in the plane. She didn't move an iota; it looked like she was meditating. He was struck once more with how much she looked like Irina, not so much in her features but rather in her demeanor.

A demeanor which had remained cold and aloof ever since the cuff incident. She seemed to want to avoid getting any closer and reliving that awkward moment. The young woman had built her rock-solid armor back up, and Jack wasn't about to try and get her guard down again, since he didn't want to form a bond any more than she did.

"Why not another blanket?" Clode suddenly asked. "If you're planning on keeping me locked up in a cold storage room, could I at least get one more blanket after this mission?"

"We'll discuss all this later," was the only answer she got.

A fatalist Elisha went back to her meditation. Jack kept on observing her, remembering that other time when she'd complained about how cold her cell was. As if she was suddenly remembering that same moment, Clode's eyes flashed open. Her gaze met his, lacking the defensive wall that had been clouding it for a few weeks. The only thing left in her golden eyes was weariness with no end to it, which suddenly made her look so very much older. Or so very much younger, he couldn't quite tell. In a tired smile, she whispered:

"I just want a blanket, athair. There's nothing more to it."

**A few days earlier, back in Tuscany…**

"It lasted over six months. Then, Oleg started to really believe that his treatment was working."

_Sydney was sitting at a table, her hair pulled back. She was writing in a notebook._

"_Julia," Oleg called. She looked up and closed the notebook. Oleg was bringing a tray._

"_Yes?"_

"_Lunchtime."_

"When he thought I was ready, he tested me. They wanted me to prove I was on their side."

_Oleg was standing in front of a group of men, sitting at a table._

"_Let me introduce… Julia Thorne."_

_Sydney came in. MacKenas Cole spoke up:_

"_Welcome, Miss Thorne. The task you are going to carry out for us deserves financial compensation.__"_

"_Of course," the young woman coldly replied._

_A man was brought into the room, tied up and gagged with duct tape._

"_Who this man is doesn't matter," Cole added. "What matters is the knife on this table. Take the knife. Kill this inconsequential man."_

_Sydney obeyed and took the knife, then turned to the prisoner, who started to beg._

"_No. No, no! Please! Listen! No! Don't do this!"_

_She sank the knife into his chest, and he screamed._

"I don't even know who he was. I didn't have a choice. He was a dead man either way."

"But how did you resist the conditioning?"

"The program my father put me through when I was a child –"

"Project Christmas?"

"Among other things, I was trained to resist attempted brainwashing. So maybe my father was right after all... "

**January 6, 2004. Lisbon, Portugal.**

"I just want a blanket, _athair_. There's nothing more to it."

It was one word, and yet it was enough for their ghost of a relationship to show up once more.

Of course he knew that Clode had aimed to throw him off center. And he hated that he was letting her. On her face, after she'd said the word, he had seen kind of a childish satisfaction – _"Serves you right for calling me Elisha."_ And he had to admit, she was only just getting even.

But there was more to this little word. _Athair._ Not _father_ or _отец_1. She hadn't used English, or Russian, but Gaelic2. The meaning of the word was acknowledging Jack's status in a way, but the language she picked meant she refused her own status. So maybe she was Jack and Irina's daughter. But she was no Bristow, and she was no Derevko. That word was as much of a declaration of individuality as an acknowledgement of received DNA.

"Senhorita Clode, what a pleasant surprise! Please sit."

Hearing the voice crackling in his earpiece, Jack focused back on the mission. Clode was in place. A place which, as it often was in their job – too often if you asked agent Bristow – happened to be a nightclub. More specifically, Anselmo Gutteres' nightclub. Gutteres was a Portuguese investor who had a stake in pretty much everything that could yield profit, dubious activities included – like, say, stolen weapon schematics. Clode had easily accessed his VIP table, having concluded juicy deals with him before.

"I thought you were out of play," Gutteres said.

"No one can keep me behind bars for long."

Marshall's excellent bug, placed in Elisha's necklace, allowed for perfect acoustics despite the loud music played in the club. So Jack heard the young woman's mocking tone all too well, and it sounded half cynical, half prophetic to him.

"I'm glad. As am I that you came, for it usually bodes a profitable investment. Do you already have something to sell?"

"It so happens that I do. And you're the first person that came to mind. Take a glimpse," Elisha added, handing him a PDA.

"A 3-D prototype model? This weapon looks pretty groundbreaking."

"I'll let you be judge of that once you have the schematics and the model's full version. After half of my three millions are transferred on my account, that is."

"And what if the plans are not as… how do you say, convincente, ah, yes, convincing?"

"Well, then you saved a million and a half dollars. Have I ever disappointed you anyway? Ripping you off for my comeback to the arena wouldn't make much sense."

"That's true. I suppose it is no use negotiating, as usual... I'll transfer the sum right away."

"You will get the schematics tomorrow, and if you are satisfied, you can just transfer the rest of the money."

"Always a pleasure dealing with you."

Jack sighed at the prospect of actually handing the schematics over to Gutteres, which could not be helped if Clode was to come back to the "arena," as she said. But at least, they'd have a head start on him, and nothing was to stop them from raiding his place, once he had spent time and money on developing the weapon.

**Back in Tuscany, a few days earlier.**

"I want to go home," Sydney lashed out. "I want to see my father."

"We can't get in touch with him. He's undercover. And right now, you do not have a 'home.' Agent Bristow let me be very clear. If you go back, you will be endangering the lives of everyone you claim to love."

"You're trying to scare me."

"Listen to me. If what little we know about the Covenant proves to be true, they are potentially much more dangerous than the Alliance ever was. You absolutely need to keep on being Julia Thorne."

"If you think I'm gonna go back there, you've lost your mind."

"If you don't, they will take it out on you, on your friends, your family, on Vaughn."

"I have to see him," she uttered, her tone bordering on supplication.

"Sydney, you've been gone for nine months."

"He loves me. Nine months don't mean a thing!" she articulated, then left and slammed the door behind her.

**January 7, 2004, CIA offices.**

"Do you – have a second?"

Jack, focused on his computer, hadn't heard Marshall closing in. He signaled him to sit, even though he had a pretty good idea of why he was there. Which was confirmed when the man closed the door before he sat down.

"I don't, uh, want to meddle," Marshall began. "I just wanted to be sure who is supposed to know what right now. Because I thought you weren't going to tell anyone about – Clode. But Clode seems to know about Clo… well, about who she is. And if she's gonna say things like she did on that plane, then soon enough Kendall will know, too. And then he's gonna ask all kinds of 'Who was the first to know?' and 'Who told whom?' and at some point he'll trace it back to me, and I don't know what I should say then.

"What you should say – to Kendall?" Jack asked, not sure he followed.

"Yes, to Kendall."

"Not a thing."

"Really? Like, 'DNA tests? Nah, just ordered these for fun,' or…"

"If he has questions about Clode, just tell him to ask me."

"Okay. But he's not going to figure it out, right? I mean, Clode is not planning to call you Dad with everyone listening in on a regular basis? She really needs to not do that. I mean, I guess if you're not paying attention, that word sounds a lot like a cough or something, or 'sir.' Not a lot of people would expect her to call you any language's word for 'father,' right?"

"I'm sure it won't happen again," Jack replied. "She got what she wanted out of it. Did you need anything else?"

"No, I just…" Marshall said, turning to the door and then back. "Well, I just thought you weren't going to tell her – Clode."

"I didn't. She had figured it out on her own before I confirmed her suspicions."

"But how – how is that gonna play out?"

"The usual way for people like us," Jack said with a sad smile.

Marshall gasped, understanding what the spy meant. "She's using you to get out of her cell, and you're using her to help Sydney." He swallowed. "God, days like this I'm so glad I'm just a Flinkman."

**Meanwhile, in front of Vaughn's house.**

Sydney saw Vaughn get out of the car. And at that second, all the suffering she'd been through over the nine last months, sensory deprivation, hypnosis, fear and shame, the blood of that man whose name she didn't even know, all of that didn't mean anything anymore, now that she was able to see him, and soon enough to talk to him, to touch him...

But then _she_ came in sight. She was blonde, quite pretty, dressed with taste, smiling.

Sydney hated her at first sight. And even more when they kissed.

She thought she'd die, for real this time. But it's never that simple. Just like when she'd found Danny dead in the bathtub, just when she'd understood Will was probably dead and Fran wasn't Fran, just like in all these moments that take the air right out of your lungs and stick a blade in your heart, these moments that make you feel like you're dying... she wondered at the blood still running in her veins, and she walked on somehow.

So she found a phone booth and called the last person she wanted to talk to.

"Kendall."

"I'll do whatever you want."

**February 15, 2004, CIA offices.**

It seemed like every day, Kendall was growing more assured about using Clode. But as Jack had feared, he was less and less in control of these missions, which were focusing on more important goals than finding Sydney. Kendall was commandeering his asset.

Of course, Jack had expected it to happen, sooner or later. Kendall's choice for Clode's missions only showed how hopeless Jack's quest was perceived by the whole Agency. Sydney had been gone for almost a year, and no one had been able to find one single lead about her whereabouts. Not even Elisha Clode. And, after all, they had found her DNA on a charred body. To anyone with any power of decision, Sydney Bristow was dead.

Even agents who had known his daughter, as much as Jack hated it. Even Vaughn, who had left the CIA almost immediately after her funeral. And now, Dixon.

"Don't look at me like that, Jack. It's been so long, without any sign of life – add that to the fire, the DNA… Maybe just this once, things are exactly what they seem, maybe there's no big plot, no conspiracy."

"You don't have to justify yourself. You can think whatever you like. Even if I'm the last person who still has faith, I won't stop looking for Sydney until I find some solid proof of what happened."

"And what if there isn't any?"

Jack remained silent and focused pointedly on a file. After a few minutes, Dixon left the office, giving up on convincing him.

Only then did a figure with long golden hair slide into his range of vision. A smile on her lips, Clode mimed knocking on the door, then slipped into the chair Dixon had just left.

"Even dear old Marcus," she started, shaking her head in disbelief.

"He's not the only one. Kendall only lets me do my thing to avoid confrontation, and both Vaughn and Weiss accepted the official version some time ago. On another note, did anyone ever tell you how rude eavesdropping is?"

"Actually, you know, I've been brought up by people who found that type of attitude extremely positive."

"So what are you doing sneaking through the upper levels?" Jack asked, not caring to respond to that last remark.

"I'm not sneaking. Actually, if anyone asks, I'm not even here. I am currently locked up on the other side of this level, reading boring reports about what NEEL has been up to in Sri Lanka. My guard is on an unusually long coffee break. I think I scare them much less than I used to," she added with a shrug.

"Is this visit just about you being bored?"

"Well, a little bit. But – well, we need to talk about something. I found information that could, well, maybe, I mean, it might be the lead we've been waiting for, about Sydney."

Jack stared at her, surprised at her uncharacteristic hesitations, which reminded him of Marshall.

"What kind of information?"

"A video of her, safe and sound. But you're not gonna like it at all."

"How did you get it?"

"For those missions Kendall put me on, I accessed surveillance material which had previously been dormant. Including a hidden camera in the office of one Lazarey."

"Andrean Lazarey, the Russian diplomat who was murdered a few days ago? Sydney was filmed in his office?"

"Yes," Elisha replied, hesitant. "I would have rather checked the file's authenticity before bringing it up, but I can't do that without Kendall finding out…"

"Show me the video," Jack articulated, wondering what was causing Clode such turmoil.

She sighed, then stepped to his side of the desk and leaned over his shoulder to type a link, then she stepped back and crossed her arms. Jack focused on the computer screen and the video started to play.

Andrean Lazarey was standing from his desk chair to greet a blonde-haired woman, whose face was hidden. They kissed each other on the cheeks, and the diplomat closed the door behind her. The woman turned around, looking toward the camera for the first time. Jack, though he expected what he saw, stopped breathing: it was Sydney. He felt tears welling up, realizing that he had been beginning to question his unwavering faith.

Lazarey walked in front of Sydney, who took a knife in her coat sleeve while he had his back to her. She then grabbed him by the neck and slit his throat. Jack started, his hand on his mouth. Meanwhile on the screen, Lazarey was putting his hand on his throat, and fell down on the floor, blood coming out of his injury.

It took the spy a few minutes to find his bearings and remember that Elisha was still in the room. He had not planned to let her see so much of his emotions. She seemed to be just as embarrassed, not daring to break the silence.

"Has anyone else seen this video?"

"I deleted it from the server, this is the only copy."

"Good. What do you know about this Lazarey?"

"Not much. He descends from Russian royalty, the Romanov family. He seems to have taken quite an interest in Rambaldi." She was quiet for a second. "As I said, I am far from certain this video is authentic. A lot of people could have manipulated it, for a lot of reasons."

"I know. I'll have it analyzed before I draw any conclusion," agent Bristow replied.

"Well, maybe I should go back to my reports before someone realizes I'm gone and initiates self-destruct."

"Elisha?" called Jack, wondering what he was doing, when she reached the door. "Thank you."

She only paused for a second, not turning back, and then left the room.

**Somewhere in Russia.**

"I'll try to be as clear as I can, Mr. Lazarey. If you don't do exactly as I bid, at this time tomorrow, you'll be dead."

That was how she introduced herself. Julia. If that was even her name – which would have come as an enormous surprise. And he had trusted her. Hadn't had much of a choice. He must have been right, since he was alive – and, more importantly, since the Covenant seemed to believe as firmly in his death as the Russian government did.

A surprising woman, this Julia. Very skilled. But not much of a believer in Rambaldi. Then again, as she had told him, "What matters is not what I believe. Some very dangerous people do believe, and they will do anything to get that damned prophet's artifacts, like that cube you were to die for. What matters is stopping them."

**Colombo, Sri Lanka. February 16, 2004.**

Kendall had sent Jack and Dixon to accompany Elisha Clode to Sri Lanka, where she was going to meet a NEEL member who wanted to hire her for an operation the CIA knew nothing about – the very point of the mission was figuring out what the recently reborn groupuscule had planned.

"What news from Tokyo?" a woman asked, sitting on a bench next to Elisha, who was reading a newspaper.

Another James Bond aficionado, Dixon thought, focusing the field glasses that enabled him to watch the scene from the roof of a neighboring building. Jack was positioned in the park, in order to act quickly if there was a problem. Once again, one of Marshall's gadgets allowed them to hear the conversation as if they were part of it.

"I don't know, I always read the national section first," Clode replied on a tone that seemed slightly jeering to Dixon's trained ear – but then again, didn't she always use that tone?

"Pleasure to meet you," the NEEL agent said without a look at Clode.

She was about forty, Asian, her hair was pulled in a severe-looking bun, her face was sharp and her gaze, dark and harsh. Dixon took a few pictures of her with the camera built into his field glasses, and they were instantaneously sent to Marshall's office so he could start a search in CIA files.

"Tell me more about the job," Clode replied.

"It's a rather delicate mission. You are probably aware that my organization has just taken a new start, and yet we already fear we have a traitor in our midst."

The irony of the situation was not lost on Dixon. NEEL, in an attempt to flush out a rat, was setting a cat among the pigeons. Except the pigeons were more like wild animals, he corrected, focusing on the bench once more.

"How many moles?"

"We are assuming there is only one."

"What is expected of me?"

"Find out who it is – discreetly. You see, we have been relying on a few generous investors, who would withdraw their funds immediately if they found out there is a spy amongst us, for fairly obvious reasons. We are willing to pay a very high price for you to… _remove _this problem."

"That's my line of work. But you'll have to name a price."

"Let's say three million, if the problem is dealt with by the end of the week."

"That should not be a problem," Elisha Clode replied with an ominous smile before she left the bench and the park.

Not a problem indeed, Elisha thought to herself. While reviewing those fascinating reports the day before, she had already understood there was a mole in NEEL, and she even knew his name. It wasn't rocket science: the Chinese government had seemed way ahead of the US in their fight against NEEL, and had the bad taste of remunerating very generously – but not discreetly enough – a man who had never been a public employee, but did show up on the list of NEEL alleged members.

Joining Bristow and Dixon, who were waiting for her in a car parked reasonably away from the park, Elisha raised her eyebrows once more in front of the vehicle in question: the CIA had rather… peculiar taste in undercover cars. She had already seen their black Golfs and SUVs – why not have a bumper sticker that says "I'm government and/or a crazy driver" – but today, they had an old Fiat who must have pulled a lot of strings to pass vehicle tests, repainted in... pink. A light pink, maybe, but still pretty flashy. The two seasoned agents who were impatiently watching her walk to them brought an eerie contrast to it. She observed the scene for a minute to burn it in her mind – opportunities for fun were so scarce in CIA secret jails…

Playtime over. She climbed at the back of the Fiat, and waited for one of her wardens to break the silence. Which none of them seemed inclined to do. She reluctantly spoke up:

"I already have the mole's name," she said, which didn't seem to come as much of a surprise to anyone. "Wow, Elisha," she said with a deep voice aping Dixon's. "You really are the best."

He glared angrily at her through the rearview mirror.

"So, what am I supposed to do? Do I do the job, or do we lie to NEEL?"

"Well yeah, go ahead, kill him," Dixon lashed out. What do you think?"

"Oh, my bad, I forgot – the CIA has never had anyone killed, right?"

"Time out," Jack interrupted, calmly but firmly.

"I'm just saying," Elisha started again with a softer voice. "If you really want to waste taxpayers' money on faking the death and saving the life of a Korean mercenary who works for the Sri-Lankans and betrays them for the Chinese… be my guests! After all, none of my aliases pays taxes in the US!"

"Who is that Korean exactly?" Jack enquired ignoring her sarcasm as he often did.

"Choi Suk. Former K-Directorate. Several intelligence agencies suspect him of being part of NEEL, and he receives large sums of money from the Chinese government on a regular basis."

"Good. I'll get in touch with Kendall to organize his extraction ASAP."

"You're the boss," Clode replied, stretching out her legs on the back seat.

"And we're heading back to LA."

"So soon?" Elisha said with a sorry look. "And I was hoping to enjoy Sri Lankan heat a bit longer…"

"Do I need to remind you it's a fifteen-hour flight and there's an O.R. waiting for you?" replied Dixon.

**A few hours later, in a plane above the Pacific.**

Jack hadn't had a chance to talk to his daughter since the mission had begun – Dixon had never let her out of his sight. When the man finally went to the bathroom in the plane, agent Bristow barely managed to hold back a sigh of relief, and it wasn't lost on Elisha. She straightened up on her seat, waiting for him to break the silence.

"Do you know how to get in touch with your mother?"

_* Ending credits *  
_

1 Отец (otiets) = father in Russian.

2 Irish Gaelic is a national language in the Republic of Ireland, a recognized minority language in Northern Ireland, and one of the official languages of the European Union.


	5. Episode 4: Here We Meet Again

Here's the 4th episode! I'm working on translating the 5th, but I'm also writing the 6th of the second season in French, so not sure when I'll put it online just yet.

* * *

Episode 4: Here We Meet Again

Whoever messes up goodbyes can't expect much from reunions (1).  
(Milan Kundera)

**Previously on Alias and Halcyon: **

_**Programme Halcyon**__ was a conditioning program that was started by the Russian government but then funded by private investors. The children, all Westerners so that they would fit in more easily amongst the enemy, are kept in a secret base in Belarus, for several years of intensive training. Among these children, Julian Sark, Allison Doren, and Elisha Clode – Jack Bristow and Irina Derevko's youngest daughter that she had after she faked her death._

_In December 2003, Jack and Elisha, who has been detained by the CIA for several months after Irina gave her up, both find out the truth. __They both agree that it doesn't change anything, yet they are both affected by this revelation._

_Sydney is presumed dead after her house burned down and a charred body was found with her DNA. Yet __Jack doesn't buy into his daughter's death, and he keeps on looking for her._

_The Covenant actually had her the whole time and they now think they've successfully brainwashed her into thinking she's Julia Thorne. She got in touch with Kendall, who has kept it from Jack._

_Irina has gotten in touch with Sark and asks him to get Clode out, but for some reason, she insists that under no circumstances Sark should tell Clode who hired him._

_Marshall has invented a biodegradable poison capsule which dissolves itself in thirty six hours, in order to control Elisha. She is sedated for the injection, so that she doesn't know where it is located. If it is not extracted in thirty six hours, a lethal dose of poison is released._

_Elisha meets with Sark on a mission in India and they find a way to keep in touch until they can figure out how to disable the capsule._

_Sark sets a date for her escape: she has to be in Moscow two months later._

_Clode finds a video of Sydney killing Andrean Lazarey and shows it to Jack. What they don't know is she faked his death to save him from the Covenant._

_* Opening credits *_

**February 16, 2004. In a plane above the Pacific.**

"Do you know how to get in touch with your mother?" he'd asked point blank.

The word itself had taken her by surprise, but any other name would have probably seemed hypocritical. It took a conscious effort for Elisha to remember what the question was. She could have thought that was Jack's purpose – disorienting her – hadn't she felt the urgency in his voice.

"I've always refused to say anything about her, I'm hardly gonna start now."

"I'm not asking you to betray her. Just for a way to communicate with her. It doesn't matter how, classified ads, Internet, whatever you prefer."

Elisha gauged him for a moment, and decided to trust him.

**February 18, Angeles, in an empty street.**

"_There's a forum. AudioByts."_

Jack, sitting in his car with his computer on his lap, logged into AudioByts.

"_In order to set a date, first you'll need to put out an ad in the London Globe. Then on the day of the appointment, post a message on the forum – and wait for her to start a private discussion. If she feels like it."_

He clicked on "New thread" and started typing a post.

"_How will she know I'm me? And me, that it's her?"_

"_She switches screen names all the time, so just use your imagination. If you want her to know I talked about it freely, you can use '182' in your nick."_

Jack had picked "Mozart_182" as a nickname. He looked back on his classified ad in the London Globe: "Milo would like to get in touch with Laura on the forum. Important news about S."

Why complicate things when they are so simple? Irina would understand, that he knew for sure; but anyone who didn't know where to look wouldn't understand a thing. And if anyone else than Irina found the message, they wouldn't know which forum it was about anyway.

"_The code is simple enough: an operation is a sonata. The target is a piece. The client is the conductor. And a false note… well, that's obvious enough."_

Jack read his message one last time and posted it.

"Found a video about the piece we discussed in London."

Now he could only cross his fingers Irina felt like responding.

"_I assume you're not planning on telling me why?" Ely had asked, lowering her voice as Dixon was walking back to his seat._

"_Not for now," Jack had replied._

He didn't have to wait long: a few seconds later, a window popped up. "Choopin2 requests a private discussion with you. Would you like to accept?" Jack clicked "Yes," hardly able to wait for the second it took before the window loaded.

CHOOPIN2: Sydney?

MOZART_182: Alive. I have an authenticated video of her.

CHOOPIN2: Where?

MOZART_182: Moscow. Killing a diplomat, Lazarey.

CHOOPIN2: But you haven't been in touch with her.

MOZART_182: No. You?

CHOOPIN2: No. Thanks for telling me.

MOZART_182: Truth be told, I need your help.

Irina didn't respond, waiting for him to explain his request.

MOZART_182: Could you find intel about Lazarey?

CHOOPIN2: Why me?

MOZART_182: His official file is useless, I need a more thorough investigation. But Kendall won't let me use CIA resources to keep on looking for Sydney.

CHOOPIN2: Alright. I'll look into it.

Irina remained "silent" for a few seconds, and Jack was about to log out when she sent another message.

CHOOPIN2: Elisha told you about this forum.

Before he had time to even consider answering, a third message appeared.

CHOOPIN2: She knows.

MOZART_182: She knows what?

CHOOPIN2: Don't play with me. How long have you known?

MOZART_182: Couple months. Stuttgart database.

CHOOPIN2: I guess it had to happen.

MOZART_182: I hope it doesn't mess with your plans too badly.

Jack logged out in a fit of anger.

He hadn't thought about the consequences, hadn't wondered if Irina would still be willing to give him information. The only thing on his mind had been the anger growing inside of him ever since he found out the truth.

He took a deep breath, slapped the laptop shut, and started the car – his plane to Tangier, where Choi Suk had been pinpointed, was leaving in an hour.

**CIA offices.**

Jack came by his office to pick up files. He found Elisha sitting in his armchair, her feet on the desk.

"How did it go?" she simply asked.

"Do the guards even bother locking your cell these days?"

"They've just implanted the capsule. I woke up alone in Marshall's improvised O.R. I guess everyone just went for lunch and forgot I was even there. Told you I scare them less every day…" she said with a sorry pout. "So how did it go?" she tried once more.

"How did what go?"

"The forum, Irina," she shrugged with a look in her eyes that said she would have none of it.

"I asked her to look into Lazarey."

"Am I gonna have to squeeze all the answers out of you? She knows."

It was less of a question than an observation. Funny how she chose the exact two words Irina had used.

"That you know? Yeah."

"So?"

"What do you want me to say? I can't tell you what her reaction was; we were on an Internet forum."

"But she knows," Elisha repeated, pensive and seeming suddenly unaware of his presence.

And then Kendall stuck his head in the door and, upon seeing his prisoner, came into the office.

"Clode! What the hell are you doing here, we've been looking for you everywhere!"

"And yet I can't hear any sirens... Less and less scared," she added in an undertone, understood only by Jack, who wondered if that was a regret or a warning.

**A few hours later. Tangier, Morocco.**

Elisha had easily located Choi Suk when she'd come back from Sri Lanka – once her biodegradable poison capsule was extracted. Then Marshall had only had to commandeer a satellite to track him. Well, actually he'd had to commandeer three of them, because Choi was on the move: from India, he had landed in Lithuania, where he had spent a few hours and then he'd left for Tangier. So the plane that transported Elisha, Dixon and Jack was prepared to change its route at any time if the need arose.

At first, they'd thought that Choi was on the lam. He could have learned somehow that he'd been made, and hit the trail. But he wasn't acting one bit like a fugitive, and was taking very few precautions to hide where he was going. Elisha had deduced that he was on a mission for NEEL, probably inspecting operating bases – or their leaders – since Bangalore, Riga and Tangier had that in common: unknowingly harboring a NEEL cell.

After the landing, the agents had rented a car – a grey Golf, which seemed to be them making an effort. Then they had followed Marshall's directions, which had led them to a building in the new town. It was a modern-looking office building, the kind you could have found in any big city – far from Tangier's traditional neighborhoods and their white, flat-roofed buildings. Elisha was enjoying the mild temperature, though it was far from scorching in February – sixty degrees (2) tops, but sunny.

Officially, the building was the headquarters of Hafa, a local business. Ten floors of offices. But according to Elisha's intel and the CIA's, it was actually a cover, like those the Alliance had used, Credit Dauphine and Jennings Aerospace. Except here, NEEL didn't bother putting up a government front with their employees, most of which were in truth working for Hafa. Only thirtyish people there knew about NEEL. All of them were trained terrorists, and all of them were on the tenth floor. And Choi Suk was right in the middle.

Of course, waiting for him to come out could have seemed more reasonable. But the thing was, Marshall had noticed on satellite images that Choi Suk was always accompanied by two muscle men in suits, plus another one who drove him around. Elisha was supposed to act alone – well, at least that's what NEEL and any non-CIA observers had to believe – and incapacitating them then taking Choi alive was virtually impossible. Shooting his brains out sniper-style would have definitely been much less of a headache, but for some reason Dixon was dead set against it.

However, Marshall had also observed what Jack and Elisha could now see with their own eyes, from their parking spot across the street: the three aforementioned bodybuilders never came in with Choi. The driver stayed in the car in front of the entrance, and the other two were standing on either side of the door. The point was that Elisha would have to act inside, which downright elated her.

Luckily enough, before she was captured, she had taken the time of studying the floor plan, just like she had for every NEEL base in the world – among other organizations. And she had a photographic memory, of course. It was a small cell, so she could only hope that they hadn't remodeled their premises in the last ten months.

"What kind of security do they have?" Jack asked.

"Mostly motion sensors connected to an alarm," she replied. "Couple cameras. They mostly rely on their guards. There's one at the elevator, along with motion sensors. If I neutralize the first and get through the second, I should be able to access the electrical panel. At that point, I'm sure Marshall can improvise some magic trick to get me through their motion sensor corridor."

"A whole corridor?"

"Yup. About a hundred feet (3) of sensors placed at various heights on the walls. We'll have to disconnect them, but then it'll be a piece of cake. Just a few cameras in the corridors, and guards of course, where would be the fun without them?"

"Where will Choi Suk be?"

"Probably with Khayat, the head of the cell, in his office."

"You'll be alone on this one," Jack warned her after checking that Dixon was still doing recon inside Hafa's lobby. "We can't help you without NEEL finding out about it."

"You do realize this isn't my first mission?"

"Be careful is all I'm saying."

Elisha rolled her eyes, refusing to dignify that with a reply. She wouldn't have had time for it anyway, since Dixon was already back.

"Getting in won't be too much of a problem," he started after he got in the car. "Ask for Mrs. Allaoui, she receives customers on the eighth floor with no appointment necessary. She'll come to get you – guests can't take the elevator without a staff member. After that, you'll have to find your way to the tenth floor."

Elisha got out of the car without a word, crossed the street and stepped between Choi's two bodyguards on her way into the building.

**Saint Petersburg, Russia.**

Irina got out of the metro at Avtova (4), one of the most superb stops on line one, which counts many works of art. Her gaze lingered for a moment over the huge, delicately trimmed, golden columns, on the chandeliers hanging from the molded ceilings – and then she saw her.

"Zdrastvuy (5), little sister," Katya said, sidling up to her side.

"Good to see you," Irina replied, glancing around to check they weren't being watched.

"You mentioned a favor?"

"I'd like you to pull a few strings in Moscow. I need intel about a man. A diplomat named Lazarey," she said at the exact same time a new train was coming in, thus making sure that no one but her sister heard.

"I'll be in touch," Katya whispered, disappearing in the scramble of commuters.

**Tangier, Morocco, Hafa headquarters.**

"Miss Rambaldi?" called a woman in her fifties, clad in a severe-looking skirt suit. I am Mrs. Allaoui, the head of public relations," she said, speaking decent English in an accent that sounded more French than Arabic.

"Pleasure to meet you," the mercenary replied with a touch of Italian intonation.

"Likewise. If you'll please follow me to my office," the manager added, walking toward the elevator. "Do you often come to Tangier?" she asked, pushing the button for the eights floor.

"Not as of late," Elisha answered when the doors closed, grasping the woman's neck and applying pressure for a few seconds, just enough for her to fall into her arms. She _carefully _dropped her on the floor – better not antagonize Dixon any more if it could be avoided – and placed her in a sitting position against the door recess, so that she could not be seen from the outside when the doors opened.

Then Elisha pushed the tenth floor button. The access was not restricted by any magnetic card or biometric device, probably because NEEL preferred to lay low and relied excessively on their guards. _They_ were the reason why Elisha stood on tiptoe, opened the elevator ceiling panel, and hauled herself up on top of the car. Surfing on a moving elevator was a bit risky, but just like riding a bike, you couldn't exactly forget it in a few months of captivity. Though she probably would have felt _less_ comfortable on a bike…

Then she partially closed the hatch and tried to find her balance without touching the elevator cables. When it reached the last floor, she crouched down and prayed that the space between the car and the top of the shaft, meant for the engine and pulleys, would provide enough headroom...

Her face stuck against the ajar hatch, a "Ding!" announced the elevator had reached its destination; then she heard footsteps getting closer – a guard. She willed herself to count five seconds, then she slowly opened the hatch. The guard was standing in the car, staring at a very unconscious Mrs. Allaoui. His fingers started toward the radio hooked on his belt.

Then Elisha slipped out of her hiding place, silent as a cat, and treated the guard to the same rest cure that the head of PR had been enjoying. One arm around his neck, the other tightening that grip. Though taller and stronger than Mrs. Allaoui, he soon joined her on the floor – with a much rougher landing.

Elisha left the elevator, through the main door this time. As expected, there was no surveillance camera – if there had been, she would be surrounded by guards by now anyway. But motion sensors there were. Concealed in the walls, they were barely even detectable, and only because she knew to look for them. She counted six of them, three on each side of the room, all of them about one foot from the floor. Since she knew that each covered about four inches (6) in width, they were really not that hard to avoid. You just had to not drag your feet, or well, raise your knees a bit.

Elisha stepped forward unhurriedly, though each minute passing by brought a greater risk of being nabbed. _Even when in a hurry, always focus on each task as if it was the goal in itself. One step at a time, _Halcyon's voice was whispering to her. It had become sort of an imaginary friend – or fiend, depending on the days. She heeded the advice and took one step at a time, emptying her mind. She reached the beginning of the motion sensor corridor. Taking a look around, she saw the electrical panel, exactly where she had thought it would be. She stepped toward it, raising her foot high to avoid one last sensor, checked that there were still no guards or cameras around that could spot her, and she opened the panel.

**Los Angeles, Marshall's office in the CIA building.**

"Hello?" Marshall said, picking up the phone.

"It's Clode," he heard on the other end of the line, feeling uncomfortable without her even trying. "I'm standing in front of the electrical panel on the NEEL floor."

"Alright. Can you… plug me into it?"

"Already done. You should be getting the signal on your computer."

"Ah… Uh, yes, my bad, that's true," he replied after a glance at his screen.

"Marshall?"

"Yes?"

"Relax. I am twenty five hundred miles away from you, and I do not yet master telekinesis, so just stop being scared of me for two seconds, and focus."

"Uh – okay. Well," he said, staring at his computer and beginning to type on his keyboard. "It seems the motion sensors are not separated from the rest of the systems, they can only be disconnected along with the power on the whole floor."

"Can you do it?"

"Yeah, but for five seconds tops. That's how long it takes for the… backup generator to – well, to start, and if I cut the power any longer, they'll suspect something and, uh, that would not be – very, good, for you."

A hundred feet in five seconds… I guess I can do that. Go ahead."

"Okay. Go in 3… 2… 1… Now!"

**Gran Chaco region, Argentina.**

Julia Thorne's life was becoming very complicated. Nothing new for Sydney – being a double agent, carrying out missions for the Covenant while serving the CIA's interests, posing as someone else with her colleagues – like damn Simon Walker, who was getting way too eager.

And now she was in the middle of a subtropical forest with Lazarey. The former diplomat had proved to be a lot of help in locating Rambaldi artifacts. Protecting those items from the Covenant was their common goal. She wasn't sure whether she trusted the CIA to do that. After all, there are power-hungry people everywhere, and maybe even more in those spheres. What if they started to believe in the Prophecy too?

Just like back at SD-6, Sydney had to juggle with "official" missions and their countermissions, plus secret missions the Covenant couldn't ever find out about. She was beginning to take the full measure of how helpful her father had been back then. Without anyone to cover for her with Cole and Simon, it was becoming very difficult to slip away and meet Lazarey at the other end of the world.

"Julia!" the Russian called on her radio, snapping her out of her thoughts.

A few minutes earlier, he had climbed down into a stone well which seemed to date back to the Inca era.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"I've found something. I'll climb back up."

**Tangier, Morocco, Hafa headquarters, tenth floor.**

"Now!"

5…

Elisha started running, sorry to not have been able to train since she'd been arrested. Push-ups and sit-ups were all fine and dandy, but not quite enough to maintain all physical skills!

4…

She gave rhythm to her breathing and forced the pace a little bit more, though the muscles in her legs were already starting to remind her of their existence.

3…

Her mind was trying to drift to happy or unhappy moments, the ones that had counted for something. But she could not afford that. She forced all of her strength onto her legs and the end of the corridor.

2…1…

She drew a long breath and started to slow down. She'd made it! And then she saw the sign on the floor, right in front of her, reading: Slippery surface! She stifled a curse. It was too late to stop in time, so she winded up ice-skating on the tiled floor with her stilettos. And then a guard came in, just as taken aback as she was.

She managed to direct her sliding toward him, used him to soften her fall, and then as a punching bag. And then, she sat there on the cold floor, catching her breath at last.

**Meanwhile, outside the building, in a grey Golf.**

Ear witnesses to the whole scene, Jack and Dixon had no way of knowing who'd had the upper hand.

"Clode?" Jack called. "Clode, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear," she replied. "Just give me a sec."

"Are you alright?"

"I've just moved from sprinting to Krav Maga with an ice-skating interlude. Just let me take a breath."

The bug only transmitted silence for a few more seconds.

"Heading toward Khayat's office," Elisha uttered at last.

**Tenth floor of the building.**

After her little improvised triathlon, avoiding surveillance cameras proved to be a walk in the park for Elisha. Picking out the rhythm of their angle changes, hugging the walls while taking every camera into account – no more than three at a time here, pretty much a piece of cake. And finally, entering the office while all cameras lenses were turned away from its door.

Khayat and Choi were both standing and in the middle of a heated conversation when Elisha slipped into the room. After a second of up-in-the-airness, they both hurled themselves at her. First things first, she shot Choi with the tranquilizer dart with his name on it, thanks to Marshall's pen-gun, which contained only one. Then she turned her attention to Khayat, who didn't seem very eager to let her grab his colleague. There was no time to explain that she was actually working for his employers – well, she wasn't, but she was supposed to.

He tried to grab her arm, but she was faster and used his momentum to send him flying to the ground. She couldn't afford to go in for subtleties, so she knocked him out with a paperweight.

"I've got Choi," Elisha announced, suddenly remembering she was not _really _alone on the mission.

Then she hauled him up on her shoulder, grasping his arm to keep him from falling down, and then she headed to the door, buckling under his weight.

"When you get him a new identity, you should include a good nutritionist. This guy weighs a ton!"

She walked out of the office and into the corridor, took a glance around. No one. Her intrusion had not yet been detected, but it would not be long before it was. She hurried on as much as she could, still trying to avoid the cameras.

When she reached the motion sensor corridor, Elisha heard the guards coming. Steps, shouts, "She's got Choi!" – "Stop where you are!" Then gunshots. Choi's head and torso were on Elisha's back, a sitting duck for stray bullets. She started to zigzag her way around the bullets – she'd been pretty good at this game, back in her Halcyon days. Then, at last, she got to the elevator. The car was still there, blocked by the first guard's body.

Elisha stepped into it, dropped Choi on the floor unceremoniously, and pushed the ground floor button while doing her best to find cover from the bullets for herself and her guest. Fortunately enough, once she dragged the guard into the elevator so he didn't get in the way, the doors closed almost instantly. Only then did she realize that her right arm was bleeding. She rolled up her sleeve and saw that she had received a bullet, which had not even had the courtesy of exiting her body. She must have been numbed by adrenalin.

"Fantastic," she blurted out.

"Clode, what's your status?" Dixon said in her earpiece.

"One bullet in my arm and three unconscious people in an elevator. Permission to borrow the guard's gun to get out of the building?"

There was a brief silence, during which the two agents were probably conferring.

"Alright," Dixon replied, "but I don't want to hear a single gunshot, is that clear?"

"Not even in the air?" Elisha mocked, getting the gun and pulling Choi back up on her back. "You better start the engine; I'm heading your way."

The elevator doors opened on the lobby. In a couple of seconds, half the people in the room were staring at the pair emerging from the elevator. Ely hurried on to the exit, making sure to display her revolver in an obvious manner, which seemed to deter any heroic attempt at intercepting her.

Choi's bodyguards, alerted by the sounds of panic inside, were stepping toward the lobby when Dixon got to them and knocked one out by surprise. The second one threw himself at him, but collapsed when Clode tripped him up with her leg. She and Dixon looked at each other and then they heard the Golf's brakes squealing – Jack was parking it as close to the entrance as he could. They both ran to the car. Dixon took the passenger seat and the mercenary threw herself into the back seat with her unconscious friend. Bristow took off like a rocket before the car doors were even closed on them.

And Elisha finally breathed again.

**February 20, , Czech Republic.**

Jack was waiting under the rain, in front of the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul. The cold air was beginning to get through his raincoat, and there was absolutely nothing to distract him in the dark, damp streets of the sleeping city. But he liked it just as well, in a way: being alone was best to ready himself for the upcoming reunion...

Then, a silhouette silently slipped into sight a few inches from him. He hadn't seen her coming and, even though that was to be expected, he let out a mental curse.

"Hello, Jack," Irina said. "So Kendall has found out how useful Clode can be. Colombo less than a week ago, Tangier yesterday…" she said detachedly, and then reluctantly asked: "I… heard she'd been injured."

"She'll live. We extracted the bullet from her arm."

"So she's doing okay," Irina uttered, but her intonation was a tiny bit off for a simple statement.

"I guess so, considering."

"My sources have never been able to keep their eyes on her for more than twenty hours at a time."

"What did you find out about Lazarey?" he asked, acting as though he hadn't noticed what she was doing, even though she obviously knew he had.

"Not much, I'm afraid. He was known in some circles interested in Milo Rambaldi, but he kept a low profile, so I really have no clue as to what his agenda was. I have not found anything linking him to Sydney."

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?"

"Of course I am, Jack," she replied, letting show an ever so slight irritation. "I want to find our daughter just as much as you do."

"This motherly side of you is touching, really."

"I have always loved my children, Jack, no matter what you might think."

"You sure have pretty unique ideas about how to show it to them."

"Oh, because you're such a role model yourself! You've lied to Sydney for most of her life."

"And you to Elisha. But _I _have never betrayed either of them."

"You're quick to forget that I only turned her in to the CIA to save your life!"

"I fail to see how that's supposed to comfort her. I've never shot her – oh, wait. Wrong daughter, right? Well, I've never abandoned her."

"For God's sake, Jack!" she lashed out, appalled. "Don't you think for a second I wouldn't have left her with you, if I had been given a say in it. But the KGB just _wouldn't_ give me a few more months."

"You took my daughter from me", he hammered.

"And then they took her from me."

"Then you got her back. And what did you do? Turn her into a killer."

"Do you think I had a choice? Halcyon was a Darwinian jungle, Jack. I didn't _break_ her. I made sure she _survived_."

"You made sure she became a sociopath. Our twenty-two-year-old daughter is rotting in a secret cell, and she had it coming."

"As for our eldest daughter, she is currently missing and presumed dead. Can we hand out the blame later?"

**Los Angeles, CIA building underground levels.**

Elisha was bored to death. The doctor had strongly recommended against exercising, especially without her sling to support her arm – and those idiotic guards had confiscated it, no doubt fearing she might hang herself or strangle them with it. Of course, she hadn't listened. She'd thought that even if push-ups were out of the question, a few sit-ups couldn't hurt. But after ten of them, not only did it hurt acutely, but a few blood drops were appearing on her bandage. And since it was her lucky week, her right arm was the one injured, so she couldn't even scribble – she only was ambidextrous for writing, and had never been able to draw decently with her left hand.

Boredom. She should have learned how to put up with it a long time ago. But maybe it just reminded her too much of the orphanage. And then, at Halcyon, they didn't have so much as an idle minute, and if the instructors had been able to train them thirty-six hours a day, they probably would have done just that. So Elisha had become hyperactive, incapable of sitting around doing nothing. She always had to be moving, thinking, hatching out plans or remembering situations. But right now, she was so exhausted…

Then she heard the corridor doors opening. Someone was coming. A distraction, at last! Elisha grabbed a random book, trying not to look as unoccupied as she actually was. She counted to ten before she condescended to looking up, and then she saw Kendall, along with agents Weiss and Dixon, all standing on the other side of the glass.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked.

"Choi is cooperating," Kendall announced. "He's already given us helpful information about his organization's structure, in exchange for our protection."

"Good for him," she replied. "Did NEEL buy his 'murder'?"

As soon as the bullet had been extracted from her arm, Clode had had to shoot a film: getting a confession out of Choi Suk, to whom the whole sham had been explained – though it would have been much more fun otherwise – and then "kill" him on camera.

"Looks like it," Weiss confirmed. "They transferred the money to you, and the communications we intercepted show that they believe the problem's solved."

"Did you just come to update me, or did you want something else?"

"In the information Choi gave us," Kendall said, "there are dates for a number of meetings between NEEL representatives or with members of other organizations. One of them is taking place today in La Paz, between Ariyatne Peretha and someone you know."

He showed Clode a surveillance photo through the glass. Seeing the face of the forty-year-old, light-blond-haired and clear-eyed woman, she imperceptibly flinched.

"Ksenia Petrovich," she uttered. "I thought she was dead."

"She was a Halcyon instructor, right?" Dixon asked.

"For a while. _Infiltration techniques_, my favorite class," Elisha joked, trying to hide her embarrassment at talking about Halcyon to anyone else than Jack. "Then they told us she was dead."

"It seems she had everyone believe that," Kendall said. "According to our intel, she has been hiding under various identities for the last ten years or so. And now she suddenly comes back from the grave to meet Ariyatne Peretha in Columbia. The question is why."

"What do you want from me?"

"You're leaving for La Paz in an hour. Your mission is finding out about their agendas, and then we'll play it by ear."

**Brno, Czech Republic.**

Irina and Jack had taken refuge in a small restaurant which stayed open all night long, and as was their habit, they had chosen the most isolated table, close to the back of the room and to the emergency exit.

"How does she feel about all this?"

"I honestly don't know," Jack replied. "She doesn't talk about it, and she most definitely doesn't talk about you. She never did when we questioned her, and helping me contact you seems to have been as far as she wants it to go."

"She was always so guarded. Even before Halcyon."

"You're afraid of her reaction, aren't you? That's why you never said anything, even though you knew she'd find out eventually. You know she's nothing like Sydney."

"There might be truth to that," she recognized. "Sydney held on to memories of a loving mother. Elisha…" she stumbled over the word, as though it didn't feel quite the same on her tongue as in her mind. "Elisha, has no such memory. But she knows how things work. She may very well understand that I did the best I knew how in circumstances that were not of my choosing. But the truth is, I can't predict her reaction."

"That says a lot, considering you're probably the person who knows her best."

"She's a natural at survival in hostile environments. From the very day she joined the Programme, she only displayed the thoughts and feelings she thought we wanted to see. And she put up a wall to keep everyone at a distance."

"And yet she clearly sees you as a mother figure."

"Oh, Jack," she said with what looked very much like... guilt. "I thought you would have known how flawed a notion she would have of that. She feels that way because I was the one who brought her in from the orphanage. She took me as a role model. But the truth is, I was never able to take care of her, and I couldn't afford to single her out among the other kids. Even when she earned it. Because she did stand out, from the very beginning."

"I can't believe it. You're actually proud of her," Jack blurted out.

"And you should, too. She's just as gifted as Sydney."

"But not as upright," he softly replied. "It makes a huge difference. Sydney has a conscience, a soul. She fights for what she believes in and she feels for people."

"Don't make her into a perfect person, Jack. She has spent way too much time doing this job to be absolutely pure. She often had to compromise with morals, remember, not so long ago she was willing to kill Arvin cold-bloodedly. And the only proof of life we have also turns out to be the proof that she murdered a diplomat."

Irina paused for a moment, swallowing.

"Besides, you know very well that Elisha is not the monster you so aptly describe. Considering how she was raised, how she was cared for, I for one think she's quite well-balanced. Just wait before you decide she has no heart. She's twenty-two. She can change. Don't give up on her just yet."

She was silent once again, absent-mindedly staring at the table. She had said a lot, and now seemed to be chasing her trail of thoughts. Was she really as dismayed as she looked?

"You know, you might be the only person she could learn to rely on. Don't throw away that opportunity."

Jack stared at her, trying to determine whether it was all a play in a game he could not yet understand. Was he so desperate to believe what she was saying that he couldn't see the evidence of her deception? He hated these encounters with Irina, after which even what he thought was obvious before was no longer a given.

"And I would like to see her," Irina gently added. "I am her mother, and I'd like to stand in front of her knowing that she knows. I want to look at her and see my daughter."

Jack realized that he knew what she meant. She had just put words on something he'd been trying to understand. So _that_ was why he'd pressed those DNA results against the glass, months earlier. _That_ was why she had to know. It wasn't enough to be looking at Elisha knowing who she was. He had wanted – he had _needed_ her to look back.

"You never know," he replied. "Maybe someday."

Irina gave the hint of an ironic, tired smile that he knew all too well.

**February 22, 2004. Los Angeles, CIA offices.**

When he got back from Czech Republic, Jack found out that Elisha had been sent on a mission while he was away, and that she was already back. So he went down to the underground level's observation room and realized that she had bandages everywhere. A closer look allowed him to see a bruise on her jaw. The rest of her face was under her blanket, so he wasn't sure how bad it was.

"Here you are," Dixon said upon entering the room.

"What's happened?" Jack asked, trying to look as detached as possible. "Petrovich?"

"No, she bought Clode's cover – investigating to be sure that Choi was the only mole in NEEL. She even seemed happy to see her. No, Peretha was the troublesome one, after Petrovich left. Apparently, Clode and Choi's film performance didn't quite convince him as much as the rest of NEEL, and he's been wondering if his organization's recent problems could stem from the comeback of one Irish girl. He thought she'd betrayed them."

"Thought?"

"Yup. He is now convinced he was wrong. I still don't like working with Clode, but I gotta be honest, she's the best smooth talker I've ever heard of. She's got that righteous indignation thing going... Almost convinced _me_ she was pure as the driven snow."

"So Peretha came round?"

"Well, she's alive, ain't she?" Dixon replied. "You know, something did strike me as odd," he added. "Before things started to go wrong, Clode was asking lots of bizarre questions, stuff that had nothing to do with the mission. I was wondering if she was seriously trying to run a scheme with us listening in – and then I understood the point of those questions. She's still looking for Sydney, isn't she?"

"Well, what's so odd about that? I never made it a secret that I was still investigating."

"I realize that. What strikes me is that Clode is helping. What does she expect to get out of it?"

"I guess she knows that being useful to me is the best way out of her cell."

"But that's not true," Dixon said. "It was the best way, at first. But now Kendall doesn't need you to recommend using her on the field, you'd be preaching to the choir. Clode is too smart to not have felt the power shift. She's got to know you're not the one she has to play nice with. So my question is, why is she?"

Jack had no valid answer to that. He knew that Dixon was right. Clode had more to gain humoring Kendall than Jack, especially considering that both might not be compatible. And even if he took into account their ghost of a relationship, Jack was not delusional enough to think Elisha might be looking for Sydney out of sisterly compassion, in spite of all the respect she might feel for her as an agent.

The agent considered for a second that Clode might have a secret goal that involved Sydney. After all, a lot of people were convinced she was the Chosen One. But the only person that she would have been that loyal to was Irina, and their encounter in Brno left him with the feeling that she only wanted Sydney safe. She was not likely to be starting her own operation, either – if Elisha ever did do that, it was a safe bet that Rambaldi would be no part of it. She was no more one of his fans than her sister was.

So really, it only left him with two options. She was either looking for Sydney as a favor to Irina… or to please Jack. He didn't really know how she felt about her mother, or him, at the moment. But it was what made most sense: she was trying to prove her worth, to earn the gratitude of one of them.

**A while later, underground cell.**

"It's over."

"What?" Jack asked, surprised, staring at the shape wrapped in her blanket, only showing the mess of her hair and the line of her forehead.

"Have you not read the radio transmissions transcript?" Clode asked, ignoring his question. "They debated it. These assholes needed to think among themselves to decide whether or not they were gonna get me the hell out of there. While I was making up evidence of my so-called innocence, while I was getting beaten up and water-boarded, I could hear them weighing the pros and cons."

Jack was paralyzed. He was not really surprised at what had happened – the team had made no secret of how they felt about Elisha. Jack felt unexpectedly disgusted at them and protective of her. But what really surprised him was the way she was recounting it. Her voice. She almost seemed... affected, emotional. Irina's voice echoed in his mind: _Just wait before you decide she has no heart._

"I know very well that I am a temporary asset," she added in an attempt to return to logic. "But I sure as hell don't like relying on people who have no interest in my long-term survival. In order to be efficient with a team, I have to be able to trust them. If I can't, then I'd rather be alone, at least that way I know who I can count on!"

Elisha was looking up, letting her furious eyes show, along with the bruise on her jaw, and a busted lip. She looked determined and on the edge of exhaustion at the same time.

"And then there's that damn capsule. I'm used to getting on alone. And I did manage to bamboozle Peretha in the end. But an hour more and I was done for. I'm not keen on dying, but if I absolutely have to, then I'd like it to be because of a mistake of mine, not because some CIA official isn't quite sure whether I'm trustworthy. So this is it. I'm done with field missions and CIA operations. At least until you find a better way to reassure yourself on your ability to keep me behind bars."

She buried her face into the blanket once more, and Jack saw her arms tightening around her knees.

"What about your arm? Feeling better?" he simply asked.

She turned her face toward him, though still concealed by the blanket, and seemed to gauge him. That was not the response she had expected.

"A bit. You know what's great about getting a thrashing," she added sarcastically, "it hurts everywhere homogeneously. Haven't found a better way to forget any other injuries," she concluded, her tone getting softer at the end of the sentence.

Jack knew she was surprised that he worried about her health, rather than about her refusing to go on any more missions. He could have just ignored it, let the moment slip away, one more thing left unsaid... And yet…

"You're more than just a way of finding Sydney," he said, almost unwittingly. "And I can understand your reasons, Elisha."

That last word had been almost silent, just a whisper really, but he could tell she had read it on his lips. Her face finally emerged from the blanket, and she looked at him without her mask of indifference and arrogance, for once.

"I need to sleep," she finally uttered after what seemed like a lifetime, breaking the connection just as much as the silence. "Tell Kendall to find something that works better for all of us."

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1 Translated from French: Qui a raté ses adieux ne peut attendre grand-chose de ses retrouvailles.

2 About 15°C.

3 Approximately 30 meters.

4 Also transcribed as Avtovo (А́втово). See details and pictures on wiki/Avtovo_%28Saint_Petersburg_Metro%29

5 Здравствуй (Zdrastvuy) = hello in Russian.

6 Approximately 10 centimeters.

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